


Ship of Theseus

by DontStopHerNow



Series: Summer of Strings [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Enthusiastic Consent, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione Granger has ADHD, PTSD, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Rebuilding Hogwarts, Red String of Fate, Smut, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 85,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22637209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontStopHerNow/pseuds/DontStopHerNow
Summary: Hermione Granger's soul string dead-ended through a solid wall on the seventh floor... until the Battle of Hogwarts.Clearly Draco Malfoy hated her and she hated him... until her testimony at his trial.She knew who she was and what she wanted... until that summer...
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Neville Longbottom
Series: Summer of Strings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683559
Comments: 92
Kudos: 285





	1. Bow

**Author's Note:**

> This story thought it was going to be a mid-length one-shot, six months ago. When I finished it last month, it turned out it was a 300K trilogy... Turns out I cannot write a short fic. 
> 
> I plan to release a chapter each Tuesday, after these initial 3 chapters.
> 
> Thanks to my partner who beta-ed this for me and came around to My Draco.

Spring 1994 - May 2, 1998

The thing Hermione hated about the strings was that they were paradoxically both invisible and red. If one cast the spell to reveal one’s string, it would reveal that string to be simultaneously both red and invisible. Wizard scholars did not seem to think this was a paradox to be explored, but most wizard scholars are not Hermione Granger.

When she read ahead in Divination in early spring, she was convinced that she must be missing something. How could the threads of fate showing the soulmate connection be both a color and not visible? She brought it up the next morning at breakfast.

“But, Ron, how can it be both a color in the visible spectrum and outside the visible spectrum? It can’t be both!”

Ron was shoving scrambled eggs into his mouth. “Gor, Huhhmmmuu dofv iii mahhuhh?”

Ginny smacked Ron in the arm. “Stop trying to talk while you eat, git.”

After a long swallow, Ron repeated himself. “Hermione, does it really matter? I mean, it’s magic. It doesn’t make sense all the time.”

Harry shrugged. “I get it, Hermione, but it is for Divination. Nothing in that class really makes any sense, does it?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You are the one who took the Grim so seriously.”

When they finally covered the subject in class, Hermione of course became incensed (no pun intended) by Professor Trelawney’s ethereal explanation.

“My dear, I’m sure that if you ever manage to see your string, you will understand how it can be both red and invisible…”

Hermione shook and screamed in her head briefly before collecting herself and trying the incantation and complex wandwork for herself.

“ _Ostende Filum_.” She twirled her wand in the conical spiral and stabbed forward.

Nothing happened. Nothing happened for anyone in the room for the rest of class, either. It left Hermione further convinced that Divination was all garbage.

Professor Trelawney explained that if one did see their string, they might not be able to do anything about it. Anything obstructing the string would have to be resolved before one could continue on to find their soulmate. Knots or loops around something meant that there was something preventing one or the other soulmate from being together. If the string went through something solid, the soulmates might never be together. It would take the literal destruction of that solid object for the two to be together.

For the next several weeks, Hermione practiced _Ostende Filum_ continually, to no effect. She found herself muttering it to herself under her breath as she could not master it. She heard that other classes had only one or two students who could get it to work. There must be additional requirements that were unstated, like maybe it only worked once you started to have feelings for your soulmate? Or maybe they were all too young to get the spell to work? Or maybe it was just a garbage spell that would never work, except for the people who like Prof Trelawney, were “gifted” with the ability to see bullshit.

She stopped bringing up the paradoxical nature of the “red” “invisible” strings when Ron pointed out that she also had a bit of a paradox going where she was scheduled for two classes at once half a day every day.

She dropped the subject completely on the day she slapped Draco Malfoy in the face and quit Divination forever.

As she was storming out of Divination, angrily climbing down the rope ladder, she cursed softly to herself. “Bloody awful nonsense. Who even wants to know about something like a soulmate or predicting the future? I know the future. It’s a lot of bloody hard work.”

She clutched her wand and stomped off down the hall to find Prof McGonagall to update her schedule and explain that she had missed a class. She repeated that mantra she had kept in her head for weeks, out of habit and anger. _Ostende Filum… Ostende Filum… Ostende Filum… “Ostende Filum…”_

And suddenly she could see her string. It bloody well was red, and fucking invisible.

This was, of course, much more interesting than going to see McGonagall. It retracted slowly as she followed it up and down the stairs and around the halls.

She followed it up to the fourth floor where it was knotted in a huge ball around the handle of the door to the library.

Hermione thought that if she could not be with her soulmate because of the library, that was a good tradeoff. She turned away and finally went to find McGonagall.

She rarely thought of the invisible red string, although it did come up occasionally.

Fourth year when Viktor mooned around her while she studied, she wondered if this was what it would be like when she found her soulmate. She cast _Ostende Filum_ again. It was still tangled up with the library. If someone like Viktor, who valued her intelligence was not the right person for her, who could be? She enjoyed his company and vowed to keep in touch with him. If she never found her soulmate, she would be lucky to have Viktor.

Sixth year when Ron and Lavender snogged all over the castle without trying to keep anything private, she finally admitted to herself that she did want that. She wanted to be not just the girl who spent all her time in the library. She wanted to be just a girl. She wanted to be seen by a boy. She wanted to lose herself snogging all over the castle. One day in early May after Ron and Lavender broke up and she was feeling especially hopeful, she cast _Ostende Filum_ in the library. It was no longer tangled there! 

Hermione followed the string out into the hall and around the castle until it went through a wall on the seventh floor. It felt oddly final to her. She would simply not get to have that soulmate relationship. She would either be alone or settle for something besides the wizarding ideal of a relationship. She supposed she would get used to it.

For the next year, Hermione felt closer and closer to Ron. Her heart broke when he left them in the middle of horcrux hunting. Her heart felt full when he came back. When they destroyed Hufflepuff’s Cup, Hermione clutched him for dear life and kissed him like his lips would keep away the darkness that had surrounded her for so long. This was real, and those paradoxical strings were misleading. She had Ron, and she had worked to get him, right? That was what a partnership really was.

As they ran back up to the Room of Requirement, Hermione noticed at last that her string’s dead-end was one of the walls that made up the Room of Requirement. She had the sudden mad thought that whatever happened next, that wall would not survive. That thought was followed by the fear that her kiss with Ron would be their first and last kiss.

After the battle, after Harry was the Boy-Who-Lived-Again, after Voldemort finally really truly died, Hermione found herself wandering the castle in a daze. She had to know before everything was rebuilt, before everything changed, before she changed. She had to know if her string was free now. She had to know if she had a chance to meet her soulmate.


	2. Jib

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione, Ginny, and Luna have a heart-to-heart and discover something odd on the seventh floor.

June 10, 1998

In the months following the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione spent most of her time on a rebuilding team with Ginny and Luna. She had spent only a few hours with any women since the Golden Trio had gone horcrux hunting, and she found that she was comfortable with them in a way she had forgotten out of necessity. Harry and Ron were still wildly uncomfortable with the idea that she was a girl in two wildly different ways that were equally frustrating.

She found herself thinking more than ever before about the red strings. Did everyone think about their red strings, too? She had never quite known how to talk about the things popular girls talked about. But, these were her friends, and she wanted to have the kind of friendships she knew girls could have, where you really _knew_ each other.

In early June, the three were piecing together an arch in the entry hall one morning when she finally gathered her Gryffindor spirit. “Did either of you take Divination? Do you remember what that spell is for revealing your red string of fate?”

Ginny looked confused. “Do you mean _Ostende Filum_? I never took Divination, but Mum taught it to me after Riddle’s diary was destroyed.” At the looks of confusion on the faces of the other two, Ginny went on. “I panicked for about half a year that I’d never find someone who could love me enough to forget I had He-Who-Whatever in my head for the better part of a year.” She pushed her hair off her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand before levitating another stone into place. “Once I successfully cast it, it proved I’d already met them, so I calmed down a bit just to know I definitely knew at least one person in the world would be compelled to feel like I was alright.”

“What do you mean, it proved you’d already met them?”

Luna flicked her wand to set Ginny’s stone in place. “Well, if you cast it on yourself, or rather, if you cast it without a target, it will show your own string, but only if you’ve already met and touched your soulmate. If you cast it on someone else, you can see their string, but only if they’ve not met their soulmate yet, and you can’t see where it leads. Then there’s a more difficult version where you can cast it on a couple to see if they share a string.”

Hermione shook her head. “How is all of that not in the Divination text book?! That is more information than I ever got in the seven months I took that blasted class!” She fit two arch fragments together on the floor and flicked her wand to set them together before Ginny levitated it to the arch. “Luna, you should be the Divination professor when Trelawney retires.”

Luna smiled to herself. “Thank you, Hermione. I’m not one of the ones who will be a professor here, though.”

“Luna, what do you mean? Are you saying you already know who will be a professor and who won’t be?” Ginny laughed. “You’re basically saying you’re qualified but won’t be taking the job!”

The airy girl just shrugged. “Hermione, why did you ask about _Ostende Filum_? Do you want one of us to cast it on you to see if you already met your soulmate?”

Hermione froze for a moment, suddenly unsure if she wanted to tell them everything. “No, it seems I’ve already met my soulmate.”

Ginny let the stone she was levitating fall into place with a slightly harder clonk than necessary. “Please tell me it’s not Ron.” She bit her lip. “Or Harry.”

Hermione shook her head, feeling her hair loosen in its ponytail. “I don’t know who it is, Ginny. Until the Battle, all I knew was that it dead-ended into a wall on the seventh floor. I sort of wandered around after the battle, but I couldn’t get up the stairs since they were demolished with that one coordinated Bombarda after Neville killed Nagini. Since the stairs are still being rebuilt, I can’t find out if that wall was demolished. I can’t know who it is if it’s still going through that wall, can I?”

Luna reached out and held her arm for a moment. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding Ron.” Hermione nodded. She had not gone to the Burrow after the battle as she could not face the inevitable fight that would ensue with Ron. “Do you want me to cast _Ostende Chordis_ next time you’re together? It’s the more complex one and it can tell if your strings will ever meet, even if they haven’t yet.”

Ginny pushed Luna gently. “If Hermione doesn’t, can you cast it for me and Harry? Next time he’s here? My string gets knotted up on any broom nearby and it’s been a hex and a half to follow it.”

Luna smiled sweetly. “Of course, Ginny.”

“I’ll also take one, as soon as possible. I can’t lead Ron on again. It was awful enough the first time.”

Ginny’s eyebrows shot up. “First time, singular?”

Hermione frowned and turned away. “I’ve never understood what was happening between me and Ron enough for there to be more than one long time. I never wanted to lead him on, and I definitely don’t want to keep doing it now if I can know for sure he’s not my soulmate.”

She turned back to Ginny and counted off on her fingers. “First, I thought I had no soulmate because the bloody spell was impossible to cast. Then, then, I thought I would never meet my soulmate because it was tied in knots ALL OVER the library. Then I knew I’d never meet my soulmate because,” she put the back of her hand to her forehead, “because the string went through a solid fucking stone wall in the sturdiest building in Britain. Then a month ago, huge chunks of that sturdy building were, were destroyed. I can’t even get up there to find out if I even had a chance to, to, to be with my person, whoever they are, and I don’t want to keep pretending that my best friend and I have a chance to be happy together if we just work hard enough at it!” She felt tears streaming down her face as she finished.

Ginny stepped forward and caught Hermione in a hug that reminded Hermione of Mrs Weasley’s hugs. “That is a fucking lot, Hermione.”

“I’ve just had to do everything I could to stay compact for everyone to make it through Voldemort alive. I kept putting off thinking about any of that too hard.”

“You don’t have to keep yourself too compact anymore, Hermione Granger.” Luna pet her head in a comforting way. “There’s plenty of time and space for you to spread out now.”

“Oh!” Ginny pushed out of the now-group hug. “I have an idea! We can fly up to that floor to see if your wall is damaged!”

Hermione shook her head and backed away. “I don’t fly. Ginny, no…”

It was Ginny’s turn to shake her head. “Ginny, yes! I’m getting you up to that wall, right now.” She grabbed Hermione and Luna’s hands. “I’ll fly for you, and Luna can come with us on a second broom. Come on, I know where Ron’s and my brooms both are.”

The redhead yelled to the next team down that they were taking a break and would be back in half an hour, then retrieved the brooms from the mass-dorm in the Great Hall.

As they made their way on foot to the least-rebuilt staircase in the wing, Hermione filled them both in on when she had noticed that the wall was shared with the Room of Requirement, repeating the story about Ravenclaw’s Diadem and the Fiendfyre and Malfoy. They mounted the brooms at the bottom of the giant pile of rubble that had been the east stairs and Hermione held tight around Ginny’s waist on the back of the broom as they ascended the seven flights.

There was no real structure to the seventh floor anymore, as the floor was entirely rubble or holes and most of the walls had collapsed sometime after the Fiendfyre incident. This floor would require more reconstruction than any other floor if it was to be used again. 

The three girls flew down the hall as they would have to fly over the holes in the floor anyway. Hermione had the presence of mind to cast _Ostende Filum_ to see if she could even see her string right now. She could see it, and it was running all over the place on this floor.

They slowed down and flew back and forth trying to find the wall that the Room of Requirement would have been on. Hermione was searching the rubble to see if her string obviously disappeared through any of it.

There was just so much of the string up here. It was tangled all over the place, hanging down into the holes (which Hermione could not bring herself to look down into), and knotted everywhere. The trio landed in a stable-looking spot they guessed must be near the former entrance to the Room as they could see a tapestry stuck between a couple of chunks of rubble that looked like it had dancing trolls on it.

Ginny put her hands on her hips and looked around. “We probably shouldn’t move any of this rubble ourselves, yeah? The whole floor is just such a fucking mess, I’m a little nervous landing right now. With so much of your string tangled up here, do you think we’ll be working on this floor later in the summer, Hermione?”

Hermione’s hand clapped over her mouth in surprise. “Oh god, I’m sure that’s what it means, Ginny!”

Luna cast her own _Ostende Filum_. She smiled. “I can see mine tangled everywhere here, too, Hermione. I guess we’ll both be working up here to resolve our soul bonds.”

Ginny sighed and cast the charm for herself. “Well, at least mine isn’t wrapped around the brooms. And it’s crazy how much of it there is up here!” She suddenly stopped looking around and turned on them both. “Okay, which one of you is my soulmate?”

“ _Finite_ ,” called Luna, then turned on Ginny and Hermione with an intense flourish of her wand. “ _Ostende Chordis_!” She cocked her head to the side. “No, Hermione is not your soulmate. I already know who my soulmate is, and it’s not you, Ginny. I’m so sorry. You and I don’t work together that way.”

Hermione laughed. “I suppose you know this the same way you know you won’t be teaching at Hogwarts?”

Luna nodded knowingly with the same smile she always had.

At dinner that night, Hermione sat with Ron and Ginny, not mentioning their excursion to the seventh floor. After dinner, Luna caught Hermione’s eye and looked at Ron then back to Hermione and shook her head briefly. Hermione frowned. She had held out a vague ember of hope that it was still possible for it to be Ron. But now, she really would need to address the issue with Ron directly. He would definitely not take the news well. He so rarely took any news well. Maybe it would be alright to kick that particular can down the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	3. Foresail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione testifies at the trial of Narcissa Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my partner for beta help.
> 
> Updates Tuesdays.

June 11-12, 1998

The next morning, Hermione was called as a witness for the first time in the Death Eater Trials. She flooed into the Ministry exactly fifteen minutes early in her smart business robes and found Harry in the lobby, also in smart business robes. Harry’s hair was not looking very smart this morning, though. It was the same crazy black mop he had on the weekends when he visited Hogwarts to aid in the rebuilding effort.

After a brief hug and how are yous as they walked over to the bank of lifts, Hermione reached for her wand. “Please let me do something to make your hair at least have a direction, Harry? You’re appearing in court! Can I please just make it lay flat?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Fine, Hermione, but court is the only time I will let you groom me.” She went to cast the charm but he ducked slightly and put his hand up. “Can you wait until we’re in the lift at least? It’s bloody embarrassing to have someone fix your appearance in public!”

They were fortunately alone in the lift. As Hermione cast a basic _Parere Capillum_ to make his hair go all in one direction, Harry told Hermione about his owl from Hagrid the day before. “He and Madame Maxime got to see a Ukranian Ironbelly hatching last week that burned both of their eyebrows off. Charlie said it’s almost impossible to make it through a month there without losing at least one eyebrow.”

Hermione touched her own eyebrows. “I think mine could use a bit of a burn-off. Encourage new growth…” She sighed. “So, Narcissa this morning?”

“Yes, I had the most limited possible say in the order of the trials, and Narcissa literally saved my life, so I had to see her freed as soon as possible.” Harry looked more adult suddenly. “They really wanted to throw the book at all the Malfoys, and I just don’t think it’s fair. The DMLE seems to just want to put all the Death Eaters away and forget any of this happened.”

She frowned. “That’s not right. This whole war happened because that’s exactly what they did last time.” She absently rubbed at her scarred wrist. “Locking away all the people associated with Voldemort is only going to create new class conflicts. I mean, look at Eastern Europe since the fall of the Soviet Union!”

Harry closed his eyes and nodded. “Hermione, I cannot think about things quite that big picture right now. I’m sure you’re right. You always are.” He smiled.

Hermione opened her mouth to continue her point as it _was_ that important, but the lift stopped and the doors opened on the dark marble hall outside the Wizengamot chambers.

The hall was empty but for the Auror collecting wands at the door to the courtroom. Harry turned in his wand and entered the courtroom as he had given testimony the previous day. Hermione waited in the hall until just after nine when the security Auror announced that she was summoned and collected her wand before opening the door for her.

The chamber was massive with the ceiling invisible above her, or at least seeming invisible with the dark marble stretching upwards into darkness. There did not seem to be any actual light sources, but the lower half of the room was fully illuminated with few shadows anywhere. 

Hermione had the odd sensation as she still had sometimes that she lived in a magical world. She got to live in a magical world.

Kingsley Shacklebolt smiled down at her from his perch at the top of the court. He gestured to the witness stand to Hermione’s right and she ascended the steps to enter that podium. She found herself at the same height as Narcissa Malfoy’s cage across the court.

Narcissa Malfoy had clearly spent the last month in a prison cell, but she also retained the same air of Bitch-Not-To-Be-Fucked-With she had always had. There was a haughty tilt to her chin that Hermione knew she could never even imitate convincingly, let alone pull off herself. God, could that family not even _pretend_ to be humbled by the war? When Hermione had seated herself, she found that Narcissa was giving her a genuine smile, though. Maybe the haughtiness was a way of coping with her lack of control over the situation?

For the first two hours, Hermione answered the same yes or no questions over and over in different ways. Yes, Mrs Malfoy had been at Malfoy Manor. Yes, she requested that Draco identify the three of them. Yes, she did identify Hermione. No, she did not want to call Voldemort to the Manor. Yes, she did stand by and do nothing as her sister tortured Hermione. No, Hermione did not know how they escaped as she had been tortured into unconsciousness by Bellatrix.

Eventually, she snapped. “May I just explain what actually happened, or am I only allowed to answer yes or no questions?” Hermione looked up at the old men and women of the court and felt disgust at their questions. “The situation was much more complicated and nuanced than it seems from your dry questions!”

One old woman in bright yellow robes and glasses reminiscent of Luna’s spectrespecs looked down at Hermione. “That simply isn’t done, Miss Granger.”

“Excuse me, Madam, there are many things that have not ‘been done’ in this society that perhaps should have ‘been done’ up to now.” Hermione blew a strand of hair off her brow in frustration. “Letting victims tell their actual story in court is perhaps something that we could start doing now…”

Kingsley gave a low cough that Hermione swore was covering the sound of agreement. There was some mumbling between the Wizengamot members. She glanced into the sparse crowd and caught Harry’s eye. He nodded to her once with a small smile.

Another old woman in what looked like a tiara with black robes spoke when the mumbling died down again above them. “What would you say that is not covered by our questions, Miss Granger? We will give you two minutes to tell us your version of the events at Malfoy Manor.”

Hermione took a short breath. “Well, first of all, she didn’t seem to want us to be identified. The tone she asked Draco to identify us was absolutely discouraging. And, after Draco, who incidentally, I would also like to testify for, did reluctantly identify us, Mrs Malfoy had the most pained expression on her face, like he had just done the opposite of what she wanted him to do. Hermione looked at Narcissa across the room. Her eyes were closed and her hands were held still in her lap, but her face held a mask of anguish. “She tried to get Mr Malfoy to reconsider, tried to get her sister to reconsider. She tried to stand up to her sister, but Bellatrix had everyone in that room hostage, not just me, who she tortured. She forced the Malfoys to stay and watch, and she attacked the Snatchers when they didn’t seem like they were going to follow her orders.” She found that she was breathing raggedly, flashing back to the moments before the Cruciatus. “Bellatrix was mad and she forced everyone in that room to bow to her will. She forced them all to watch as she cut me with the knife,” Narcissa let out a choked gasp, “and she demanded subservience. Narcissa Malfoy did not want to be there, and without a doubt, she did not want those things to happen to me. I have few solid memories of the moments between the Cruciatus, but I do remember that Narcissa Malfoy shed tears for me, and that she did not look away from me. She saw me in the worst moment of my life and she cried for me.” 

Hermione found that she was crying now. She looked over to Narcissa, looking so much like she had as Hermione looked through a haze of pain on the drawing room floor. Narcissa’s eyes overflowed with tears and showed the pain of her empathy through her quiet dignity.

Kingsley cleared his throat. “Thank you for your statement, Miss Granger. We will have you submit your memory of that day in full to supplement your testimony.” He looked to the members of the court. “Who has further questions for the present witness?”

Four members indicated they had questions, and Hermione resumed answering the yes or no questions posed by the court. The questions did improve in quality, though, and continued for another hour until Kingsley called for a recess. When presented with a memory vial, Hermione pulled the silver memory strand of the day at the Manor, then exited the chamber with a backward glance to Narcissa’s now-empty cage.

Harry met her with a hug in the hall when she collected her wand. “Very Gryffindor of you, Mione.”

Hermione nodded. “Well, I thought I might throw up from those other bloody questions they asked. How do they think that it’s a fair trial if they don’t ask for a narrative of the events? What if they don’t ask the right questions?! It’s ridiculous.”

The Auror in the hallway cleared his throat. “Miss Granger, I’ve received word they are finished with your testimony at this time. You may join the gallery for the remainder of the trial if you wish.”

Hermione shook her head. She inclined her head toward Harry and lowered her voice. “I can’t watch the nonsense they consider a trial.”

Harry shrugged and pressed the call button for the lift. “Can I buy you lunch before you floo back? I want to hear all about the construction from yesterday. Spare no detail about how hard you’re working… with Ginny… you know…”

She squeezed her eyes closed and laughed as she shook her head wildly, feeling her curls puffing up from the bun at the back of her head. “Nooooo, Harry, I can’t describe your girlfriend to you! For fuck’s sake, send her an owl, you goat!”

After a totally non-horny discussion of the fall of the Soviet Union at lunch, Hermione flooed back to Prof McGonagall’s office for the afternoon construction session. She worked with Ginny and Luna again, this time of the fiddly bits of several flying buttresses on the outside of the Great Hall. The buttresses needed to bear the outward weight of the roof, and the spellwork that had already been done on these ones was inadequate and needed to be corrected before any cracks began to form in the walls.

The nice thing about the construction spells was that Prof Flitwick had not only taught them a number of new permanent sticking charms, but also the counter charms to all the sticking charms. Hermione and Ginny were both anxious to see if any of the counter charms would work on Walburga Black’s portrait in Twelve Grimmauld.

Hermione filled in the other two women on Narcissa’s trial and the drama that had ensued from Hermione just trying to explain what happened in her own words.

Ginny pursed her lips. “Yeah, that’s not really necessary in most cases, though, Hermione. I mean, they can just go into your memory to see what happened, and see if it’s been tampered with? It’s usually pretty cut and dry.”

Hermione stamped her foot. “It’s not that fucking easy, though, Ginny! We’re all manipulating our own memories all the time! And what I think of my memories is as important as what happened, and you don’t get that from a bloody Pensieve!”

Luna put her hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “Hermione, you’re right. Especially with these trials. What people did in the past three years is not nearly as important as why. We’ve all had to be new people, even if we didn’t want to be.”

Ginny’s eyes were wide. “That’s really profound, Luna.”

Luna smiled the same serene smile she always did and performed the rhythmic wandwork to strengthen the buttress that arced above them.

Hermione woke the next morning to an owl from Harry and the morning’s Daily Prophet. The big headline of the day was “Golden Girl Granger Acquits Malfoy Matriarch”. Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed. That was absolutely not how the day had happened. She was tempted to write a letter to the editor, but thought better of getting into a fight with the press at this juncture in her life.

Neville sat across from her eating his oatmeal as he read his own copy of the Prophet and cocked his head to the side at her tiny fit. “What’s wrong, Hermione?”

She frowned. “I only testified for about three hours! Harry did more than I did! Why did they focus on me?”

He chuckled. “I mean, they do like to talk about whatever is the most interesting thing happening, and Harry testifying for her really isn’t as interesting as you testifying for her, you know?”

Hermione threw her hands up in the air. “Why?! I’m not that interesting!”

Neville arched an eyebrow. “I don’t think you see yourself very well, Hermione. You’re bloody fascinating.”

She shook her head and opened the letter.

The owl from Harry just filled her in on the proceedings from the afternoon and into the evening. Narcissa had testified about everything she endured under Voldemort’s reign. Harry did not want to go into details in the letter, but Hermione could tell from his scrawl that the rest of the day must have been intense. Harry did say that the court had deliberated for only a short time before coming to her acquittal.

Harry also said that after she was released, she specifically sought out Harry to thank him for his testimony, and to pass her thanks on to Hermione for her testimony both today and in the future if Hermione was allowed to testify for Draco. Apparently Narcissa had more to say to Hermione, if she would accept a letter.

Hermione looked up from her morning baguette to puzzle over the request. What could Narcissa Malfoy have to say to her now? She had done what was right and testified in her defense. What else was there to say?


	4. Hatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Neville play cards and then go to the greenhouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut starts here. :)

June 13, 1998

The next day being a Saturday, Harry came up from London for the weekend to do his part in reconstruction.

At lunch, they discussed the next two weeks of Death Eater trials. Harry would, of course, be attending court for the duration. “It really feels like they want me there to make the decisions for them…” He shook his head. “As if that was my job, not theirs.”

Ginny rubbed his back and put her head on his shoulder. “I just wish they’d let you relax after you saved the fucking world, you know?”

Hermione had the thought that Harry was probably relaxing just fine, not doing reconstruction work like the rest of them, playing video games and watching movies in the house he shared with no one.

Ron paused with a giant sandwich halfway to his mouth. “You could just portkey away to Maijorca or something.” He shrugged and unhinged his jaw to take an inadvisably big bite of his sandwich.

Hermione looked up from her book. “Do you want some company in London? Kingsley owled me yesterday about testifying at Malfoy’s trial on Tuesday. I could come down the night before and stay for the duration, or until you’re tired of me. I have a couple of ideas for countercharms on Walburga’s portrait I can try, too.”

Harry’s face softened slightly. “That sounds really great, Hermione.” He turned his head slightly and nudged Ginny’s arm. “You want to come for a couple of days, too, Red?”

Ginny nodded and turned further into him, murmuring something too softly for Hermione and Ron to hear across the table but that made Harry put his arms around her and whisper something back. Hermione went back to her book on memory strands and the effects of Obliviation on their structure. Ron made a noise of disgust around his already half-eaten sandwich and turned away from Harry and Ginny to pay attention to Neville and Seamus instead.

That afternoon as with most weekend afternoons, they did a mass-construction spell with everyone who had come up to the school on their days off. Most of the volunteers were parents and students who could not stay during the week and came only to do the larger projects. After the Great Hall had been completed a few weeks ago, they all worked on reconstructing the various floors and towers in order of urgency. This weekend they worked to reconstitute Gryffindor Tower over two days so the weekday volunteers could stop sleeping in tents in the Great Hall.

Professor Flitwick truly looked like the conductor of a symphony as he gestured to each team in turn to perform their spells and pull the stones this way and that. Now this team would do a transfiguration to make the placement permanent, while the team on brooms above cast protections around the people on the ground, and a final team spelled every part of the construction with new wards of every type. By dinnertime, Flitwick was the most windswept and sweaty of them all, but he also had the biggest smile for the whole group’s success.

Hermione found herself after dinner playing muggle cards with Neville and Luna in the classroom the students used as a makeshift common room. Someone (Hermione suspected Bill Weasley) had sneaked in several bottles of Firewhiskey that had been transfigured to look like normal canteens. The resultant carousing was much more boisterous than normal. She found herself noticing that Neville had really improved with age, filling out his frame with arms(!) and shoulders(!) and longer legs(!) but retaining enough of his boyish looks to be really cute. She found herself wondering if his face was very prickly with the stubble he had not shaved off that morning. She found herself taking more sips from the canteen as the Firewhiskey went down smoother, and she found that Neville was matching her at drinking and the card game. She found that Luna had disappeared at some point and no one else was paying attention to them. She found that she could not stop staring at Neville’s lips and that maybe his eyes were the color of the lake on a sunny day and that he kept looking at her lips, too. She found that she was sitting far closer to him than she had ever thought to sit before and she had the winning hand! She found herself slapping the cards down on the table and jumping up to exclaim, “Your arse is MINE, Longbottom!” before slapping her hands over her mouth and collapsing onto Neville’s lap in giggles. She found Neville’s laugh to be a sort of wonderful purr and that his hand was on her waist steadying her and that she needed some steadying right now more than anything else. She found that no one was looking and he was so close already and she found herself pulling his hand and leading him out of the party.

As soon as they stepped out of the classroom, Hermione stopped feeling like she was following her actions around. Oh, she still felt the effects of the alcohol, but she felt like she was in control in a way she had definitely not been inside. She turned back to Neville. “I feel like some air. Will you come with me, Nev?”

Neville smiled a bit bashfully. “Sure, Hermione.”

Hermione led the way and they walked hand in hand out into the cool air of the night. “When did you get so hot, Neville?”

“Hard to say. Probably sometime while you had your nose in a book.” He pulled them both to a stop and brought her hand to his lips to kiss it. She could just see his eyes on hers in the faded light. “Hermione, can I kiss you?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her in by her waist. “I would really like that.” His lips touched hers softly at first, testing. She pulled his head more firmly against hers, deepening the kiss first. She wanted something different from what she had always thought she wanted, and this was exactly the sort of thing that she had never thought she wanted, but definitely wanted right now.

When she broke away to catch her breath a few minutes later, she knew definitively that his stubble was a little rough, but as his facial hair was still patchy, it was not very scratchy. She also knew definitively that Neville Longbottom was the best at kissing so far. She looked up into his eyes. When had he gotten so tall? “Do you want to find somewhere more private? I want to find somewhere more private.”

Neville nodded. “I’m sure no one’s in the greenhouses, and those were dead easy to fix, so they’re pretty clean. You know, except for the dirt…”

She bit her lip and grinned. She grabbed his hand and took off running to Greenhouse 2. They slipped inside and Hermione tripped over something in the dark, bringing them both crashing to the dirt.

“Oh Morgana, Hermione, are you alright? Lumos.” He reached for her face in the light of the wand. She was fine, and proceeded to climb on top of him to continue snogging him senseless.

Hermione quickly divested herself of her t-shirt and Neville’s button-down. Oh stars, he was really fit, soft muscles and skin and just beautiful in a way she never noticed before. Neville was kissing down her neck and onto her breast. He looked up at her for a moment. “Is this alright? Can I take off your bra?”

She felt the twinge of a muscle in her pelvis in an unexpected way. “Oh god, yes!”

He buried his face in her cleavage as he fumbled a second with the clasp in back. When the bra began to fall away, he caught the center between his teeth and pulled it away slowly, pulling the straps down her arms gently with his hands. Hermione’s breath hitched as he looked up into her eyes with a hunger she had never seen in a man’s eyes before.

He Accio’d a tarp from the connected shed and turned them over onto it, then ran his hands through a series of cleansing spells. Hermione did the same, only slurring one and going a little too deep on one of her Scourgifys. Neville kissed the burn and, damn, that actually felt sort of nice. He laid her back, cushioning her head with his hand. She pulled his face back down to hers.

As their kisses deepened again, Neville slid his hands over her breasts and squeezed slightly, making Hermione moan into his mouth. He pulled her nipples gently to stiff peaks and kissed down her neck again, bringing a nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it before sucking and twirling his thumb gently around the other nipple. Hermione’s head fell back as she felt her core contract in pleasure. She ran her fingers through his hair as he laved attention on her breasts. Where had he learned how to do all this?!

Hermione could feel the wetness pooling between her legs and she knew she really wanted to have sex with Neville, more than she had ever wanted to have sex before. Would he want to go that far? “Neville?”

Neville let her nipple fall from his mouth with a pop and looked up to her eyes.

“I think I’d like to have sex with you, if that’s alright?”

Neville’s head fell back down to her chest and he chuckled that purring chuckle against her skin. He looked back up at her again. “I’d like to have sex with you, too, Hermione. I’ve been keeping it to myself how much, but as you asked…” He shifted his pelvis slightly against her leg and _Hermione could absolutely tell how much he wanted her right now._

“Oh!” Hermione’s face broke out into a huge smile. “Oh, that’s very exciting!” She shivered a little.

Neville leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss that explicitly stated his hunger for her. His tongue wrestled with hers in her mouth, then his mouth. Between kisses, she gasped at what his hands were doing to the skin that was currently exposed. She unbuttoned her shorts and shimmied them with her knickers down her thighs until they caught on Neville’s knee between her legs. He glanced down and his breath caught now. “Can I touch you?”

Hermione caught her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded as she looked up at him. His hands (when had his hands become a man’s hands?) pulled her bottoms off entirely and then two fingers were gliding through her wetness and parting her to find even more silky wetness. She took his hand and guided him to her favorite spots. He circled her clit with two fingers before dipping them lower into the font of the wetness and pulling some up to lubricate more. “I want to help you come, Hermione. Will you tell me what to do?”

She nodded again. “If you press a little harder on my cli- OH YES, right there, just like that, just keep doing that!” She pressed on her pelvis just right and she could feel the build. “Tell me what you’re thinking… I need words, too…”

A flash of panic flew across his face before he could realise what his thoughts were. “Oh, uh, oh, I’m just thinking how beautiful you are. You’re so wet for me and that is so bloody hot, Hermione. You feel amazing, and I want you to feel everything.”

Hermione concentrated on how his fingers felt on her clit and how he saw her and how much she was enjoying just letting herself go. “Can you do this inside with two fingers on your other hand?” She made the gentle crook motion. “And, keep talking.”

“Oh, Morgana, Hermione, you’re so tight. I’m getting harder thinking about how I’m going to slide inside you. Mmm, it’s you, it’s just you!”

“More about how we’re going to fuck!” She could feel the tension building to the peak.

“I’ll push into you slowly, and when I bottom out, I’ll play with your clit some more so I can feel you clenching around me. I’m sure I’ll lose all control and just fuck you into this dirty tarp…”

Hermione nodded, biting her lip. She could picture it, and she could picture them right now. Neville was looking down at her with lust, both hands pleasuring her as she clutched his arm and pressed hard into her pelvis with the other. She felt the peak coming, and she thought of what he said, it’s just her. It is just her. It. Is. Just. Her. It is Hermione and this is Neville giving this to her, and it is just _her_. And her peak hits her as the tension snaps.

She has no idea what kind of noises she is making, but she is definitely gasping. She hears Neville murmuring closer to her face again as she comes down. “What? I didn’t hear what you said, Nev.”

“I said, you were amazing. That’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.” He captures her mouth in another urgent kiss. Now that she feels more relaxed, she runs her fingers through the soft trail of hair down his stomach to the button on his trousers.

Neville grabbed his wand from the floor beside them and cast the contraceptive charm on himself.

She slid her finger back and forth through the hair below his navel. “Can I touch _you_ now, Neville?”

He nearly slapped her hand out of the way to unbutton his trousers and kick them off his legs. His erection (!) bounced against Hermione’s leg once before standing still at attention. It is beautiful in the moonlight. He is beautiful in the moonlight, and probably also in the sunlight, and all the other lights between.

“Neville, you’re fucking gorgeous.” Hermione wrapped her hand around his cock and ushered him back down on top of her. She lowered her voice and stroked her fist up and down his length. “I’m so excited for you to fuck me into this dirty tarp. I was dripping for you, and now I’m going to scream your name while you come, hot man…”

He lifted her bum and she guided him to her entrance. True to his word before, he pushed into her slowly. It did not hurt as much as she expected it to hurt for her first time. When he bottomed out, he circled her clit with his thumb as he pushed down lightly on her pelvis as he had seen her do. She could feel everything, and it felt exactly how it should, and not at all how she thought it would. She could feel the light spasms as she clenched around him from his fingers circling her clit.

They both spoke. “That feels amazing…” And both fell into little giggles.

Neville’s eyes rolled back into his head for a second. “Fuck, Hermione, when you laugh I can feel it inside. It’s amazing…” He kissed her again and, true to his word again, he seemed to lose control of his hips, rocking slightly and making Hermione hiss in a gasp of air as he hit… something incredible inside her…

He drew back and thrust into her, earning another little gasp. His hips snapped into hers over and over. She could feel the peak approaching again. “Neville, don’t stop, you feel so good!”

Neville kept the rhythm going as he balanced on his forearms. She reached down and helped herself along by circling her clit again. The rhythm grew erratic and he finally came with a deep moan. He seemed to pause to catch his breath and then replaced his softening cock with his fingers inside her, crooking them just slightly to urge her into her second orgasm.

She pulled his head down to hers once more and came with his tongue in her mouth and his fingers inside her.

They fell asleep soon after under the curved glass roof.

The morning came as all mornings do, with a sunrise. Hermione had not understood logistically before how the Hogwarts greenhouses were arranged so as to get the most sun possible. So, Hermione was awoken at 5:30 A.M. by the glare of the sun screaming at her that she was naked.

She _was_ naked, and so was Neville Longbottom. Good times.

She realised that maybe she had not been awoken by only the sun. There was a tapping on the window and someone seemed to be outside.

“Fuck! Neville, where is my wand?! There’s someone outside!”

Neville was immediately awake from the dead sleep he had been enjoying. He pointed to the pile of their clothes. Hermione dove for the pile and cast a charm she had perfected living with Harry and Ron in close quarters.

“Hermione, why do you have black bars across your chest and… you know…” He gestured to her knickers area. “And why do I have a black bar across my… you know…?”

Hermione stood up, sorting through her clothes for her undergarments. “Well, living with Harry and Ron, I developed a modesty charm for use when you need to be naked around someone but don’t want to see everything. She blushed a little. “Not that I don’t want to see your, you know… but someone is outside and I don’t fancy the idea of anyone seeing us starkers.”

Neville stood, admiring the spellwork that made it so even he could see nothing of his package. Hermione was amazing, and he told her that as he twisted his hips back and forth to test the range of the charm.

As they finished dressing and putting the greenhouse back to its original state (including standing up the wheelbarrow behind the door where it should have been last night instead of two feet in front of the door where Hermione tripped over it the night before), Neville cleared his throat. “Err, Hermione, last night was great. Why me, though, and why last night?”

Hermione ran her fingers as far as she could through the matted mess of her hair. “I don’t know. I’m sorry if that answer is awful, but it’s the truth. I never noticed you like that before? And then I did and I just kept finding myself more and more drawn to you all night. I just, I trusted you to lose my virginity to, and I’m really glad it was you. You saw just me, and that was just what I’ve been wanting for so long without knowing it.”

Neville looked alarmed. “Wait. You were a virgin? That was your first time?!”

She nodded and felt somehow ashamed. “Yes? I just never had the opportunity or wanted to do it before. It just felt right last night.”

He gathered her into a hug. “I had no idea. Thank you for trusting me, Hermione.”

She blurted out, “I don’t think I want a relationship with anyone right now. Is that alright?”

He pushed her away enough to look at her again. “Hermione, I’m constantly surprised that anyone could _want_ a relationship right now. Who are any of us after the past year, hell, two years?” He shook his head. “Not that I’d turn one down, I guess? But, I’m here to rebuild the school so I can get my Herbology N.E.W.T. If this becomes something, okay, but if it’s just two friends having a bit of fun, let’s have some bloody _fun_ …”

Hermione smiled and kissed him chastely again, feeling something ineffable between them. “That sounds perfect, Neville.”


	5. Sails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Ron come to an understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am too excited to stick to my update schedule as I have been faster with my rewrites than I expected. My new plan is to post updates on Tuesday and Saturday. 
> 
> Thank you for the comments so far! I'm glad people are enjoying Neville!

June 14, 1998

Hermione and Neville agreed they were not particularly interested in talking to their friends about any of what happened Saturday night. They also agreed that Ron needed to be told the bare fact of the matter so he did not find out accidentally and lose his mind. Luna gave Hermione an overly knowing smile when she sat down across from Hermione at breakfast that morning. Hermione soldiered on through what she swore to herself would _not_ turn into awkwardness. “How was your night, Luna? We lost you after cards.”

Luna shrugged as she fixed her tea. “I was just in the mood for a walk more than anything. Did you know Ronald has an encyclopedic knowledge of all the Chudley Cannons lineups for the past ten years?” She took a sip of tea. “Now I know he does.”

Hermione was not _certain_ she knew what that meant, but assumed it meant something to Luna. Had Luna and Ron gotten together last night? 

The weekend volunteers spent the morning clearing some of the larger rubble from the halls before they completed reconstitution of Gryffindor Tower’s roof in the afternoon. Ginny, Harry, and Ron were on brooms a hundred feet above Hermione putting the tiles in rough position as she, Luna, and Hannah Abbott made the adjustments to the placement and delicate transfiguration on the underside to keep them in place.

Everyone went outside when the roof itself was complete to watch as Professor McGonagall flew up to the peak of the cone and transfigured the broken statue of a golden lion to be as new, shining in the setting sun.

Hermione heard a small choking sound and looked over to see Ron with tears rolling down his cheeks as he looked up at the rebuilt tower. “Ron, what’s wrong?”

Ron shook his head and sniffed deeply. “I just, that’s sort of home, you know? And we all made it right again together.” He let out a fresh sob.

Hermione pulled him into a hug. “I know, Ron. I know.” They stood hugging for a very long time before separating and holding hands staring at each other. Everyone else had gone in to dinner.

“‘Mione, why isn’t this going to work between us? I don’t get it. We’ve been so close for so long, and I love you, but I’m not in love with you. And then we kissed and it was amazing and then the rest of the battle happened and you didn’t come back to the Burrow, and we’re not together, and I don’t know why, but I don’t want it anymore. I don’t know what I want, but I don’t want this anymore and I’m so confused because it’s like a piece of me was replaced.” He was shaking a little and seemed surprised at his own speech.

She smiled sadly. “I don’t know either, Ron. I wanted this for long enough that I’m confused about my feelings right now, too. I think when we were more like normal teenagers we made more sense? But, we haven’t been anything like normal teenagers for a year, and we spent most of that time together and we couldn’t be together while it was just the three of us. It definitely changed us as people.” Hermione looked away and let his hands fall from hers. “Ron, you know the strings of fate?” He nodded. “We’re not connected that way. I’ve been doing that spell since third year and it doesn’t lead to you.”

Ron’s face crumpled into tears again and he balled his hands into fists as he crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “Why did you let this happen at all if you knew we weren’t soulmates, Hermione?!” He was fully shaking now.

Hermione took half a step back. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have. First it was tangled up in the library for years and then it went through a solid wall on the seventh floor. I never thought I could be with my soulmate and I’d made peace with that as much as I could. But, now that wall is in ruins and my string is tangled up all over that floor. I just found out before going to the trial last week.” She could feel hot tears welling up in her eyes. “I still don’t know who it is on the other end, but I had Luna do the spell to see if we are connected and we’re not, and it was both devastating and a relief, Ron. It’s not that I didn’t want to be with you, exactly, but I’m so glad we don’t have to try to make this work because it’s bloody exhausting. I love you so much, but seriously, this,” she gestured between them, “would be terrible if we tried for real.”

His posture had relaxed slightly and he moved to comfort her. “Morgana, Hermione, I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

She avoided the contact and crossed her own arms. “You didn’t know, and you didn’t ask, and I never tried to share because I didn’t want to have to admit I cared about that sort of thing at all. Like a real girl would care.” The tears finally spilled over and rolled gently down her cheeks.

Ron stepped gently into her space and put his arms around her, awkwardly craning his neck to put his chin on the top of her head. “‘Mione, you’re a real girl. I hope you find someone who makes you feel that way. I’m sorry I couldn’t make you feel that way.”

She leaned away slightly to look up at him. “Ronald, when did you get sensitive, literally at all?”

Ron chuckled lightly. “Maybe when the freak without a nose was screaming about having killed my best friend?” He shrugged. “Maybe now I’m not scared everyone I love will die, I have more time to think about all the things everyone’s been saying about feelings for years? You know, just trying to have the emotional range of maybe half a cup by Christmas?”

Hermione laughed. “God, I was such a bitch, why did you ever like me?”

He shrugged again, the signature Ron Weasley move. “You’re just indescribably amazing.”

Hermione put her hand over her mouth, remembering that morning when Neville said the same thing to her. She could feel her cheeks heating up at the memory of Neville. She drew her hands down her face, pulling her mouth into a grimace. “Ron, that reminds me, I think you should hear this from me rather than anyone else. Just keep in mind that we are not together and I don’t have anything to apologize for, I just don’t want you to be shocked if this gets out somehow.” She thought back to the person outside the greenhouse that morning. “Uh, I slept with Neville last night.” She cringed, looking up at Ron’s face.

A series of emotions passed over his face: shock, anger, hurt, and disgust before settling on a stiff mask that Hermione could not read as he looked away over her shoulder. “He’s not the worst. At least he’s not Malfoy or something.”

Her stomach flipped over at the thought of Malfoy and she recoiled. “Ugh, no! Why would you even think of him?”

Ron pulled his signature move.

She sighed. “You can’t say anything to Neville about this. We agreed it wasn’t going to turn into anything, so we’re not going to be rubbing it in your face or anything.”

“But, why him?”

“I don’t know, Ron. Why anybody? Why does Luna know you have an encyclopedic knowledge of the Chudley Cannon’s lineup for the past decade?” Ron blushed and looked at the ground. Hermione raised her eyebrows as her voice became a little shrill. “He was nice to me and I felt like doing something that made me feel different than the past year. Maybe I wanted to do something to be someone different than I’d felt like I was before. You’re not the only one who feels like pieces of them have been replaced recently.”

Ron huffed. “Fine. I wish it had been me, but Neville’s a good guy. Merlin’s saggy y-fronts, this having an emotional range shit is exhausting. How can you do this all the time?”

Hermione pulled Ron’s signature move. “Years of practice. Let’s go get dinner.”

Harry gave them a look of confusion and alarm from across the Great Hall when they entered as it was completely out of character for Ron to be half an hour late for dinner. Hermione slid into the seat beside Harry as Ron went to eat with his parents before they returned to the Burrow. 

Harry lowered his voice and tipped his head toward her. “You two aren’t getting back together, are you?”

“Merlin, NO! Harry! Why do you always think that? And, we were barely together at all in the first place.”

Now Harry pulled a Ron. “Maybe because every time I think you’re finally going to settle into just being friends, something dramatic happens and you both get weird around each other for a month or two before things go back to normal and then the process starts over again.” He looked over his glasses briefly. “You know I’ve been watching this from way too close for the past seven years. I know my Ronmione patterns…”

“What on earth is ‘Ronmione’?” She paused in scooping shepherd’s pie onto her plate and cocked her head in confusion.

Ginny leaned over Harry. “That’s what he’s been calling you two for the past two years behind your back.”

Harry scoffed and let a fake sneer cross his face as he turned to Ginny. “Traitor.”

Ginny nodded and pushed his face further away to lean closer to Hermione. “Yeah, ever since Ronvender didn’t work out, Morgana rest her soul.”

Harry nodded. “I mean, I needed a shorthand to talk about it. You were really insufferable.” He smirked a little. “Although, Ron with anyone is a bit insufferable, really. God, when he finds his soulmate it’s going to be the _worst_.”

Hermione blinked and shook her head in astonishment. “Harry, you’re so bitchy. When did you get so bitchy?”

“Surviving the manipulations of a quarter of the adults in my life and three killing curses has given me the ability to give exactly one fuck at a time, and I like to save it for when it really counts.” He nodded as if he had just given sage advice. “Also, I’ve gotten a squib therapist, so hopefully I won’t become like that myself.”

Hermione could not have been more surprised at the sudden emotional maturity of her two best friends.


	6. Rudder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione makes a dramatic change. Draco may or may not be asleep. Harry puts his foot down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big old chapter for today. This is what I was so excited about posting that I got ahead of my schedule...
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has kudos-ed, subscribed, and commented! You make my day!

June 15-16, 1998

Monday evening, Hermione and Ginny flooed into the lobby of the Ministry to meet Harry after his day of meetings with the DMLE. They all went out to get Indian takeaway before returning to Twelve Grimmauld.

As they entered the hall, Ginny whipped out her wand and silenced Walburga Black. Harry had apparently not spent any time updating the old pureblood house except the second floor sitting room, so they traipsed up the stairs. As they passed closed door after closed door in the dark house, Hermione was struck by the odd idea that Twelve Grimmauld was home to more dead people than living ones right now.

Harry had done quite a lot to the second floor sitting room, though. There was a big screen tv and a giant cushy leather couch. Hermione was certain he just played video games when he came home every day, if the Harry-sized groove in the couch was any indication.

“Who wants to play Goldeneye?” Harry made it sound like an exciting thing, not at all like he would find and shoot them immediately if they played against each other. Hermione could never quite reconcile why Pierce Brosnan was on the cover. The James Bond in the game really was not Brosnan-Bond. 

Hermione suddenly felt the loss of her parents quite acutely as she thought about the arguments they used to have about Sean Connery versus Roger Moore. Would they remember why they had watched _From Russia With Love_ so many times without the memory of Hermione squeezed between them on that green sofa? 

Harry’s head tilted in question and he beckoned to her with the controller. She shook her head and tucked into her curry. “I think I’ll just watch if you play that one, Harry.”

He nodded. “Alright. I know Ginny is always up for trying to kick my arse.” He grinned as Ginny mimed punching him in the face.

Hermione managed to keep thoughts of her parents segregated most of the time, as she surrounded herself in a world they had never really known. For the first month of rebuilding, she had spent most evenings in the library, sorting and restoring books that had been damaged in the battle. She was looking specifically for books that would teach her how to un-obliviate her parents, as she had not planned for a world where that was a possibility, and now had no key to unlock their memories of her. She did not think it could be that simple, but she had no idea where to start except the Hogwarts Library, where all her research always started.

Ginny took to the shooting game much more quickly than Hermione expected for a witch who grew up without video games. By the time Hermione noticed a change in the energy of the competition between Harry and Ginny, she had beat him the last two replays and was almost set to tie him in total wins.

Hermione left to go rest in a private room without fifty other people snoring or having nightmares in it. She took a shower and messed about with her hair in the giant bathroom beside her room. There was a huge vanity with a dressing-room style lighted mirror on one wall. As Hermione sat in the low-backed chair that matched the vanity, she felt like she had taken the place of some very fancy pureblood witch from the past.

In one of the vanity drawers, Hermione found a small pamphlet on hair charms for different types of hair that looked like it had been printed in the late fifties. She tried a few of the charms on her own hair and managed to get it into a decent semblance of the long pin-up style. She considered how different she would look with less hair, and how much easier that might be.

Morgana’s hairy nipple, she had too much fucking hair.

She pulled it away from her face and cast a glamour that made it look like she had a shorter cut, like if Audrey Hepburn had curly hair. She looked like a totally different person, but also more like she wished she could. Who would she be with different hair? She changed the glamour so she had honey blonde hair like Luna, then to jet black hair like Pansy fucking Parkinson, then platinum blonde like Mrs Malfoy, and finally Ginny’s long, straight ginger. She found she liked them all, but there was something eerie about the way her posture seemed to change with each change in hair color.

Hermione banished the glamour and stared at herself in the mirror for another minute. “Fuck it.” She stuck her head out the door of the bathroom and called down the stairs. “Ginny!! I need your help if you’re not busy!”

Ginny poked her head out of the sitting room. “Harry was just making a move, but that can wait. What do you need?”

“Do you know how to cut hair? I have too much of it.” Hermione bit her lip, as everyone seemed to have an opinion on women cutting their fucking hair and she had no idea how Ginny would react. She heard Ginny run around the stairwell and come bounding up the stairs two at a time.

“I don’t know how, but that’s never stopped a Gryffindor or a Weasley before. Can I just give Mum a quick floo call to see if she has any tricks? She always cuts my hair, but it’s obviously totally different than yours. I think her brother’s hair was more like yours.”

Hermione nodded. “Absolutely. I’m thinking of just getting rid of all of it. Go down to a pixie cut or something like that?” She tensed, waiting for Ginny’s reaction.

Ginny slapped her hands over her mouth. “Morgana’s tits, Hermione, that’s going to look so good on you!”

Hermione stepped forward and grabbed Ginny’s hands. “You think so, too?” She jumped up and down a little. “I was looking at different options on myself and it just seemed like something I wanted to do!”

Ginny jumped up and down with her. “Fucking yes, Hermione, let’s go talk to Mum! I don’t want to mess this up!”

The two went running down the stairs to the fireplace in the library and floo-called Molly Weasley at nine o’clock on a Monday. The two could not get the words out fast enough, and Molly had to keep asking questions to understand what they needed. When she finally had the gist of what they were doing, she clapped and bounced a bit herself, then set about explaining the basics of cutting hair. She passed a well-worn pamphlet to them about cutting boys hairstyles that she thought would help for the kind of cut that Hermione described.

“I’ll expect you all to stop by in the morning for breakfast before you go to the trial so I can see how it went. Or, if you find you hate it, I have spells for that, too, Hermione dear.” Molly kissed them each on the cheek before bidding them good night.

They raced back up the stairs past the sitting room where Hermione could hear the music for Super Mario now that Ginny had abandoned Harry.

They settled into the large bathroom before the mirror. Hermione gathered her hair into two sections, sticking it together before carefully slicing through it with the spell _Ussa_. It took a couple of tries to get it right, but she sliced through the hank of hair easily and screeched a little in joy as she held up the separated piece. Ginny did the second section and suddenly it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from Hermione’s shoulders.

Ginny spent the next hour getting the shape just right. Hermione’s hair would never be really straight, but at least she could cast _Parere Capillum_ and it would actually do something.

When they finished Hermione’s hair, they went downstairs to show off to Harry. He startled violently away from Hermione. “Oh my god, is that you? Why did you do that?”

Ginny pulled her wand from her pocket again and pointed it at Harry. “Oy, boyfriend, hear this and pass it on to everyone else: that’s the wrong thing to say when your friend makes a big change to their appearance. Repeat after me: Hermione, that looks great!”

Harry’s eyes had gone wide and he opened his mouth a few times before any sound came out. “Hermione… that looks great…”

“Now: Does it feel good to make a change?” Ginny twisted her wand in her grip.

Harry nodded. “Does… it feel good to make a change?”

“Finally: You look beautiful as always.” Ginny grinned and leaned forward.

Harry’s eyes filled with terror. “This is a trap. Am I allowed to say that to her?”

Ginny gripped her wand harder and jabbed it forward. “You are required to say that to her.”

Harry put his hands up in surrender. “Hermione, you look beautiful as always.”

Hermione finally laughed out loud. “Thank you, Harry. I just really needed a bit of a change, and this is just what I wanted.”

He laughed nervously. “I’m glad you’re happy. Ginny, were you really going to hex me for saying that?”

Ginny nodded. “You don’t get to make her feel bad when she’s so happy.” She stepped closer and put her arms around his neck. “Just remember what I taught you for when I chop off all my hair…” She placed a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose as he stayed frozen in fear.

Hermione took this as her cue to leave them alone again, closing the door behind her and returning to clean up all the hair she had severed that night. She spent another minute looking at her new hair in all the available angles before noxing the lights and heading to bed.

The next morning, Harry’s hair needed more work than Hermione’s did. 

“What did you do to him last night, Ginny? It’s like a rat’s nest up here!” Ginny got a wicked look on her face and opened her mouth. “Wait! No! I take it back, I don’t want to know. Let’s just go see your mum for breakfast before we have to be at the Ministry.”

Molly and Arthur were entirely complimentary about Hermione’s new hairstyle. They all stuffed themselves on pancakes and sausages and all the coffee they could drink in forty-five minutes.

Ginny stayed at the Burrow with Molly for the day, hoping to bully George into a one-on-one game of Quidditch. The rest flooed into the Ministry at the appointed hour. As he exited the lift on his floor, Arthur gave them a small salute. “Give my best to the Minister!”

Hermione suddenly remembered again what she was doing at the Ministry today and felt sick to her stomach. She knew she needed to testify for Malfoy, that it was the right thing to do, but now she realised the reality of having to see the worm. He was going to hear her say nice things about him! She almost wished she did not have anything nice to say about him. He was only going to somehow use that against her if ever given the chance. Being the bigger person was fucking exhausting and Hermione had no idea how she would get through this trial. She had a moment of sincerely wishing she had not asked to testify for him.

When they approached the security Auror by the chamber door, they learned that Hermione was to be the first witness this morning. Malfoy had apparently waived his right to testify on his own behalf, a fact that Hermione found exceedingly strange. Why would he not want to tell them _anything he could_ to get out of Azkaban?

She surrendered her wand and pushed open the door to the chamber when called. The same Wizengamot members looked down on the court from their positions above the proceedings. Kingsley seemed cheerful as always, pointing to his head and giving her a thumbs up. She remembered afresh that her signature mess of hair was gone, and she gave in to the urge to look toward Malfoy’s cage to see if he had noticed her yet, and what kind of nasty reaction he was having.

It seemed that he had not noticed yet, though. He sat in the prisoner’s cage in shackles with runes on them. He hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees with his head of blond hair hanging down to obscure his face.

“Malfoy?” Hermione stopped in her tracks. “Are you alright?”

He glanced up at her, but she could barely see that it was really him. “Oh, Granger. It’s you. Nice hair. It suits you.”

Hermione could easily have been blown over by a gentle breeze. What had they done to him? “What have they done to you? Are you alright?!”

He lifted his head again, but there was a throat clearing from above them before he could speak. “Excuse me, Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy, we need to proceed with the trial.”

Hermione took her seat in the witness box and a younger wizard from the lowest tier of the court began. “Miss Granger, as you prefer to tell your story in your own way before submitting to questions, can you please tell us what happened at Malfoy Manor the day you, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Dean Thomas were taken there?”

“I had cast a stinging hex on Harry’s face before my wand was taken, so it was puffed up, and I hoped, unrecognisable. As I stated in Narcissa Malfoy’s trial last week, she took us all to the drawing room and asked Draco to identify Harry. Draco Malfoy wouldn’t give a straight answer yes or no, and Narcissa seemed to be leading him to NOT identify us at all. It was only when Lucius Malfoy looked closely and demanded Draco Malfoy come over to help that he even went over to look at Harry.” 

Hermione’s heart was pounding with the weight of her next words.”There is no way that Draco Malfoy did not know who we were. He absolutely recognised us. We all had classes together and lived in the same building for years. We had all known each other since we were eleven, and Ron and Dean and I were all fully recognisable. He absolutely lied and hid the truth from his parents and the Snatchers until he could not anymore.” 

She took a deep breath and a sip of water before she continued. “When Bellatrix Lestrange arrived, she took command of the whole room, killed or stunned the Snatchers and made Draco throw them outside. As he was doing that, she separated me from the others and sent them to the cellar and began torturing me with a cursed knife.” She reminded herself to breathe deeply. “I don’t know when Malfoy got back, but between bouts of Cruciatus, I saw that he was back, standing by the fireplace beside his parents. He had his back to me and whispered something to his father that his father seemed not to like. Then, Bellatrix Lestrange carved the slur into my arm and I lost consciousness. When I woke up, we were gone and I didn’t see Draco Malfoy until the Battle of Hogwarts. He had been sent to find Harry in the Room of Lost Things.” She took another deep breath. “When Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle tried to use the killing curse on Harry, Malfoy tried to stop them. Malfoy looked terrified, and Crabbe and Goyle weren’t listening to him at all. They kept trying to use the killing curse on all of us before Crabbe cast the Fiendfyre curse and we all had to fly from the room before we died.”

Hermione heard a choking sob and her gaze snapped over to see Malfoy in the same hunched position, but now his shoulders were shaking. She had lost all sense of time explaining the events and felt as if she had woken from a dream. She was suddenly struck by how similar their positions had been in the war, used as pawns in a struggle between forces even more cunning than they were. “Please, Draco Malfoy was an arsehole and a nasty bully to us when we were students, but I saw him change over the course of our sixth year. He was clearly being tortured by something terrible. He was a selfish stuck up prat, but he wasn’t a murderer. If he hadn’t been home for the Easter holiday, Lucius Malfoy would have called Voldemort to the Manor much sooner and Harry would have been dead before we could destroy all the horcruxes. Draco didn’t give us away. He definitely recognised all of us except Harry, and since Ron and I had been out of school all year with Harry, Draco would have been a fool not to know that the guy with the black hair and puffy face was Harry. Draco isn’t a fool, so he must have known, and he protected us the only way he could. I’ve testified before that Bellatrix Lestrange had everyone in that room held hostage, and Draco was one of the hostages. He didn’t have to come back after he put the Snatchers outside, but he did come back. He could have stayed away and saved himself, but he didn’t save himself. He put himself back in harm’s way, and I believe it was to save us.”

She looked straight at Malfoy again and took in his appearance now. His normally bright white blond hair had a slightly yellowish hue in the light of the chamber. His hands appeared dirty and he was wearing robes that looked torn in places.

At her pause, he looked up and she saw the mottled yellow and purple of a healing black eye. His eyes were a dullish steel grey as they reflected the light in the room. He looked positively gaunt with dark circles under his eyes and red rims from crying. He blinked at her once and his head dipped again.

Hermione had been trying not to look at him while she told her story. She hadn’t wanted to see his reactions, but now she found she regretted that. She wanted to know what he thought of what she said. As the first witness, she had no one to ask except the court reporter, who certainly had not been notating that.

The elderly witch with the spectrespec glasses spoke next. “Miss Granger, you said that Mr Malfoy was a bully when you were students together. What was the nature of his bullying toward you specifically?”

Hermione shuddered and looked down at her hands. “He called me a filthy mudblood on several occasions. He mocked my intelligence and--”

“Thank you, Miss Granger,” the spectrespec witch called from above.

Hermione swallowed and frowned down at her hands. They could not put him away for being a bully and a git, could they? What else could she have said to soften it? Should she have softened it?

The judges all asked their questions in turn, remaining as dry as ever. No, she had not spoken to Malfoy directly since their sixth year. No, she probably did not know him well enough to guess his true motives. No, she had not been in the astronomy tower when Dumbledore was killed. Yes, she was certain he had covered for them at the Manor. No, she had no idea what he said to his father while she was being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange.

She finished her water and was not provided with more. She requested more water and was denied. The proceedings dragged on into the early afternoon and Hermione got the impression that she was being punished for something.

She watched Malfoy as much as she could, now, but he rarely did anything but remain still, bent forward in the cage. Did he have an injury? Was that the only position he could manage in the cage?

“Excuse me, judges. Is Malfoy injured? Has he been seen by a Healer? I see he has a black eye. Has that been seen to?” She looked directly at Kingsley. He should be doing something to keep the prisoners safe and at least treating injuries that occurred, right?

Malfoy started laughing, a rasping barking laugh that echoed through the marble room. “They don’t treat self-injuries in Azkaban, Granger. That’s what prison is for…”

She started forward, almost rising from her seat, and held the edge of the witness podium. “What the hell are you talking about, Malfoy?”

“Back to Malfoy? I was Draco by the end of your story…” He stretched and leaned back against the bars at the back of the cage, letting his legs extend before him, the toes of his shoes reaching out between the bars of the cage.

Kingsley cleared his throat. “Miss Granger, you are excused. Your testimony is complete. Please submit your memories of the day at Malfoy Manor and the Room of Lost Things in the vials before you.” Two vials appeared beside the empty water glass. He banged his gavel. “We will recess for an hour lunch and reconvene at 2:15.”

Malfoy disappeared from the cage as Hermione pulled the memory strands from her temple. She stepped down from the witness box and left the chamber on shaky legs. 

Mrs Malfoy was sitting in the hall with Harry. Hermione collected her wand and collapsed into Harry’s arms, tears streaming down her face.

She tried to speak, to say anything about what transpired in court, but found she could only open and close her mouth, the words unformed in her mouth. Harry shook his head. “Don’t try. There’s judicial silencing spells that won’t let you tell us anything about what you said. The spells are extremely thorough. You’ll be able to tell us a few things after you testify, or everything after the trial concludes, but not before that.”

Mrs Malfoy stepped forward. “Are you hungry, my dear? I would like to buy you lunch if you’ll let me. I know almost nothing about you, and I believe your testimony saved me from years in prison.”

Hermione nodded as Harry and Mrs Malfoy led her away. In the lift, Mrs Malfoy broke the awkward silence. “May I call you Hermione?” Hermione nodded. “And, before you start with formalities, please, call me Narcissa.” She smiled kindly at Hermione, her eyes reminding Hermione of her own mother.

Hermione tried to smile back and nodded. “I never thought I would be on a first name basis with Narcissa Malfoy. I suppose that’s some kind of honor.”

Narcissa chuckled. “Some kind, maybe. I’ve always preferred my given name to any of my surnames. My mother-in-law Mrs Malfoy was a bit of a stuffy old crone, and I think of her just a little whenever anyone calls me that.” She shuddered in a comically exaggerated way that made them all chuckle.

The three stepped out of the lift and proceeded to the perfectly cromulent Ministry cafeteria. As they sat down to eat by one wall, Harry cast the Muffliato charm. “I’m sure Hermione could use just a touch of privacy right now, yeah?”

Hermione nodded.

Narcissa ate a spoonful of her soup exactly correctly before breaking the silence again. “If it were possible to speak of your morning, how would you describe…” she paused to consider her phrasing, “the color of the eyes in the chamber?”

Hermione puzzled over how to answer the question in a way that was vague enough to get around the judicial spells. “There were some blue eyes above, and my eyes are brown, and there were some grey eyes, and one black eye.” She put one hand over her own eye.

Narcissa frowned. Harry looked confused. “What?”

Hermione shook her head. “Quiet, Harry, the women are talking.” Harry cocked his head to the side and frowned, shoving a crisp into his mouth.

Narcissa took another two exactly perfect spoonfuls of her soup and ate a cracker somehow without actually biting it or creating any crumbs. “And, how were the manners in the chamber?”

Hermione took a small bite of mashed potatoes and contemplated how to answer that. “Unexpectedly good, but…” She could apparently not say ‘concerning’... What else, what else? Hunched? “...” No… Confusing? “Confusing.”

What the fuck was with this spell? It made so little sense. What the fuck were the rules?

Narcissa nodded. Hermione opened her mouth again and mimed trying to get the words out. Narcissa shook her head. “No, don’t try too hard, dear. It’s exceedingly difficult to learn the rules for these ones. I truly appreciate your effort on my behalf.”

Harry threw down his prawn sandwich. “What is happening? Hermione?”

Hermione nearly burst into tears again and just shook her head instead. “I can’t, I don’t know!”

Harry turned to Narcissa. “What happened? Why won’t either of you tell me what’s going on?”

Narcissa smiled sadly at Harry, placing a hand on his for a second. “The silencing spells, Harry. I shouldn’t have, but I haven’t…” She paused and frowned. “It’s been a long time, Harry, and I miss my family. I’m afraid it was selfish of me to impose on Hermione, but I simply had to try.”

Harry frowned, too, picking up his sandwich to take a huge bite.

Hermione picked at her mashed potatoes until it was time to return to court. Narcissa refrained from trying to engage them in anything resembling conversation. Instead, she filled the silence with descriptions of the plants she was working to fund in the Remembrance Garden to be planted on the grounds at Hogwarts.

At one point, Harry nudged Hermione’s arm and glanced to his left where Rita Skeeter sat several tables away, writing and drinking tea from a paper cup. She obviously found it fascinating that Harry and Hermione were eating lunch with Narcissa as she conspicuously never looked in their direction. 

Just as they were about to pack away their trash and head back to court, there was a flash in the cafeteria and Hermione and Harry looked up to see that Rita Skeeter’s photographer had taken a picture of the three of them. Hermione pulled on Harry’s robe to keep him from going to wrestle the camera from the man’s hand. 

Narcissa just rose carefully from her seat and walked over to Rita, bent slowly at the waist until her mouth was right next to Rita’s ear. Whatever she said made Rita’s face go white and she stiffened, then nodded her head. Narcissa stood straight again and returned to the table.

“Don’t worry. That picture will never be seen.” She waved her wand to send the dirty dishes and trash away before sliding her wand into her sleeve. She smiled at the two teenagers. “Shall we?”

Back in the depths of the Ministry, Hermione surrendered her wand again and was let back into the courtroom to sit alone in the gallery. The next witness would be Harry.

Now that she could just watch without being on display herself, Hermione took the time to watch Malfoy. He was leaned back as he had been when she left the courtroom with his eyes closed. Harry began with the day he found Malfoy in Myrtle’s bathroom, crying about how he would be killed if he did not do what he was told. Malfoy’s mouth had set into a hard line. As Harry moved on to the night in the Astronomy Tower, Malfoy seemed to shrink slightly. As Harry described the way Malfoy hesitated and did not kill Dumbledore, his shoulders contracted and his head turned away from the court toward the gallery. His expression was pained, even with his eyes closed.

Harry continued with explaining much of the same series of events at the Manor that day the way Hermione had. Of course, Harry knew how they had gotten out, and there was the important bit about Malfoy’s wand recognising the transfer of allegiance to Harry.

Hermione found that the Wizengamot really liked Harry Potter. They spoke to him sweetly and asked leading questions, not at all like they had treated her. Every time he took a sip of his water glass, it refilled to full automatically.

Eventually, Malfoy seemed to have fallen asleep in the cage as Harry testified for him. He had been completely still and looked almost relaxed, his arms crossed over his chest.

The spectrespecs witch then asked a question of Harry that Hermione had not seen coming. “Mr Potter, what is the relationship between Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger?”

Harry looked between Hermione in the gallery and Malfoy in the cage, whose eyes had opened wide as he sat up straight in his seat. He seemed to choose his words carefully. “I am not aware of any relationship between Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, your excellency. Hermione and I were not in the same house as Malfoy, and he seemed to disdain our presence whenever we were forced to spend any time in the same place.”

The witch above frowned. “How do you explain the familiar way that they conversed when she entered the courtroom today?”

Harry was the picture of confusion. “What did they say? I’ve never heard them speak in a ‘familiar way’ to each other before.”

“Miss Spencer, please read back the selected transcripts of Narcissa Malfoy’s trial, and the conversations from this morning.”

The court reporter flicked her wand and began reading in a high monotone, “Hermione Granger: And after Draco who incidentally I would also like to testify for…”, wand flick, “Hermione Granger: Malfoy are you alright. Draco Malfoy: Oh Granger it’s you, nice hair it suits you. Hermione Granger: Are you alright what have they done to you,” wand flick, “Hermione Granger: Is Draco injured, has he been seen by a healer, I noticed he has a black eye, has that been seen to. Draco Malfoy: They don’t treat self-injuries in Azkaban Granger, that’s what prison is for. Hermione Granger: What the hell are you talking about Malfoy. Draco Malfoy: Back to Malfoy, I was Draco by the end of your story.”

Harry’s face had scrunched itself further and further in confusion as the court reporter read back Hermione and Malfoy’s words. When it was clear that the dramatic interpretation was complete, he sighed. “Your excellency, Hermione Granger cares deeply about people, even alleged Death Eaters. As it seems you are asking for my interpretation of their extremely brief conversations, she was probably concerned about Malfoy’s black eye. Also, she just cut her hair last night, so I’m sure that was a shock for him. I know it was a shock for me, and I see her all the time.” He took a breath and rubbed his thumb and forefinger in his eyes below his glasses. “Your excellency, I do hope you are not attempting to suggest that a woman who has saved my life merely by being in it, a recipient of the Order of Merlin not one month ago, and a war hero, has anything to apologise for when she shows compassion to someone who has wronged her. I also hope you are not suggesting that a man who was forced into a role on threat of the life of his mother, then did everything in his limited power to stall and stymie those who would seek to kill me and make Voldemort supposedly unstoppable, I hope you are not suggesting that man should not notice a huge physical change in someone he has known to look a certain way since they were both ELEVEN YEARS OLD.”

Harry huffed and crossed his arms. “You know, we are all teenagers. And, none of the teenagers in this courtroom have been able to just be teenagers. We were all trying to NOT GET KILLED, and SAVE THE BLOODY WORLD.”

He drank the entire glass of water and threw it off the witness box where it shattered on the floor. When he spoke again, his voice was so quiet, Hermione leaned forward to hear him clearly. “If you want me to keep showing up for this circus, you’d better let Draco Malfoy go. If you don’t, I’ll understand that there is no justice to come out of this court and you can start considering me a hostile fucking witness.”

The court above gasped and whispers abounded. Kingsley pounded his gavel to demand order, a smile in his voice. “Mr Potter, you will refrain from expletives in the courtroom.” He cleared his throat as was his wont. “Wizengamot, we shall adjourn to private chambers. Court is still in session for the time being. Mr Potter, you are not dismissed.” Kingsley cast a silencing charm over the three teenagers before leaving his position above them.

Hermione tried to talk to Harry with her eyes and hand gestures, but Harry was not very good at such things. Malfoy had gone back to feigning sleep. Hermione eventually calmed down and stopped trying to communicate with Harry. She found a small blank slip of parchment in her bag and crumpled it up to throw at Malfoy in the cage to get his attention when the judges reappeared above them.

Kingsley ended the silence. “Draco Malfoy, please stand as your verdict is read.” Draco responded immediately, raising smoothly to his feet as if he had not spent all day in a cramped cage sitting still. He craned his neck to look up at Kingsley. “Draco Malfoy, you are found guilty of the attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore and sentenced to time served. You are found guilty of being a marked Death Eater and sentenced to five years probation, to begin with the rebuilding of Hogwarts Castle, followed by the optional for most, but required for you, eighth year of school at Hogwarts, and finishing with four years of work at the Ministry in a position dependent on your N.E.W.T. scores. You are acquitted of all other charges and are free to go, after meeting with your probation officer to receive your probationary trace.”

He made a swooping motion with a spell Hermione could not hear and the manacles disappeared. With another flick, Malfoy was now on the floor of the chamber.

Before Hermione could say or do anything, the door to the chamber slammed open and Narcissa ran to her son, pulling him into a hug. He clutched her, burying his face in her neck as she whispered in his ear.

Hermione got up and left the chamber as Harry also made his getaway from the emotional scene. In the hall, they collected their wands again. They did not speak until they entered the lift.

She smacked him in the chest. “What the bloody fuck was that, you wanker?”

“Ow! Excuse me for doing the right thing and standing up for you, and him, and, oh, I don’t know, JUSTICE, HERMIONE!”

“You held the Wizengamot hostage! They could have held you in contempt of court, or just not done what you asked and still forced you to testify every time they wanted you! What were you thinking?”

“Oh, just that if they kept vilifying every single person who was ever nice to a Death Eater for a second that maybe we’d end up like Eastern Europe after the collapse of the Soviet Union, Hermione…” He flicked her in the forehead as she stared at him, mouth agape.

Her voice went soft. “You listened to me? For real? About something as boring as that?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Of fucking course I did, Hermione. You wouldn’t tell me about Ginny’s arse in jeans. What was I supposed to do?”

Hermione laughed and then got serious again. “But really, Harry. Why did you say all of that? You told them you wouldn’t play their game, and you made enemies of them. What was your point?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t see someone like us who was forced into every bad and good thing he’d ever done be condemned to any more time in prison. He’s just like us, except on the other side, and ugh, we stumbled onto everything we figured out, or you brute forced it with your research.” The lift doors finally opened on the Ministry lobby. “I just can’t see that Malfoy deserved what they tried to do to him.”


	7. Anchor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione receives two letters and three compliments.

June 17, 1998

The Prophet the next morning bore Harry’s quote as the top of the fold headline: “Savior Potter ‘Can’t See Malfoy Heir Deserved It’”.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “We really need to find a spell for revealing Rita Skeeter in unexpected places. We can make it a mantra like I did that one year with _Ostende Filum_.”

Harry looked up from spreading jam on his toast. “What? The string spell? You?”

Hermione shrugged. “It made me crazy that finally there was an actual spell to master in Divination and it wouldn’t work. It would have been good to know that it doesn’t work to cast it on yourself without already having met your soulmate. It finally worked that day I quit Divination, so I must have touched my soulmate for the first time sometime in the few days before that.”

Ginny wandered into the kitchen with wet hair and spied the newspaper on the table. “How is Skeeter trying to twist that comment?”

Harry swallowed his bite of toast. “Oh, just trying to make me look unhinged again. You know how it is.” He mimed a talking head with his hand. “Potter’s too naive to see the truth, Boy Savior too good for his own good, Boy-Who-Keeps-Living unsympathetic to those who can’t keep living… The uszj.”

Ginny rolled her eyes as she grabbed a mug for coffee. “I should be a reporter if I can’t get recruited for Quidditch. She just writes nonsense. I could do a thousand percent better without having to, you know, break the law.”

Harry grabbed her hand to pull her down on the bench next to him. “I could kiss you right now, Ginevra Weasley.” Hermione cleared her throat and Harry glanced at her before looking back at Ginny. “And since this is my house, I think I will…”

Hermione looked away and picked up the newspaper to see what else was happening in the world beyond Harry snogging the shit out of Ginny at the breakfast table. Someone was reporting on the rebuilding efforts across the country, including the days-old news about Gryffindor Tower. There was a picture of McGonagall on her broom doing the final transfiguration of the lion on the tower. She looked both very old and very happy.

A tap on the kitchen window brought the morning’s owls, including a short-eared owl bearing four letters with the Malfoy seal on them. Harry fed three owl treats to this one before it let out a soft trill and flew back out the window and disappeared at the ward-line.

Hermione set aside the Prophet and opened the first letter addressed to her. The script was the same perfect script as every other woman who grew up in the Fifties in Britain.

> _Dear Hermione,_   
>  _I hope this letter finds you well after court yesterday. I wanted to extend my sincerest thanks to you for your willingness to testify on behalf of Draco yesterday. If you ever find yourself in need of assistance, I hope you will call on me personally._   
>  _I know that my beliefs and those of my family have targeted muggleborn witches and wizards, and that my family has targeted you specifically on many occasions including the occasion you testified to in court, but I want you to know that I regret all associations with V--- and would like to make amends in any way you and other muggleborn members of the wizarding community might see fit. You specifically are among the best of wizarding kind, and I truly wish that I did more to protect you that day._   
>  _Again, please let me know if you ever require assistance in any way. It is literally the least I can do for you after what you have done for me and my son, to say nothing of your part in helping Harry Potter defeat V---._   
>  _Your humble servant,_   
>  _Narcissa_

Hermione read through the letter twice and felt tears sliding down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the butt of her hand.

Ginny swallowed a bite of toast and raised her eyebrow. “Which one was that?”

Hermione laughed a little. “Oh, Narcissa. I’m done shedding tears for Draco Malfoy.” She folded the letter again and slipped it back into its envelope.

Harry turned back from preparing his second cup of coffee. “You seem to have better letters than me. Narcissa thanked me and said she wanted to help me in whatever way she could in the future, and Draco, well, it’s certainly a thank you, but I’m not sure whatever else it is. See for yourself.” He flicked one of the open letters over to Hermione where it landed on her buttered toast. She cast a quick cleaning charm before reading.

> _Potter, Apparently thanks are in order for your part in freeing me, so Thank You. I suppose I owe you one (at least one) for losing your temper like that in court. Who knew I needed a couple of Gryffindors in my corner against the bloody Wizengamot? If I ever see you around Hogwarts or elsewhere, just know I’ll do my best to behave myself if you’ll do the same. -D. Malfoy_

Hermione looked at Harry. “You’re right, that was certainly a thank you. Do you think his mother made him write to us?”

Harry nodded with wide eyes. “Oh, definitely. She’s scary AND proper. I’m sure she made him get a haircut and a shave and then immediately sat him down at a fancy writing desk to compose these.” He gestured to her unopened letter. “What did he say to you?”

She picked up the last letter. It had the same small scratchy handwriting as Harry’s letter, the same as most of the boys in their class, but his was at least legible and neat. She took a breath and slid her finger under the ornate Malfoy seal, drawing two pages from the envelope.

> _Dear Granger,_   
>  _First, thank you for testifying for me in court today. Although I have to give more credit to Potter for his threats to the court in getting me out, if you hadn’t been so contemptibly virtuous, he probably wouldn’t have lost it the way he did. I appreciate your concern for my well being, despite my constant antagonism for the past seven years._   
>  _Second, and far more importantly, I am sorry for everything that I’ve done to make your life more difficult since our first meeting on the train on our first day of school. To say I was a git would only get to about 10% of how badly I’ve acted toward you and rallied others to act toward you. Living with a mad aunt and a psychopathic dictator made it obvious that everything I’d been taught about pureblood supremacy was wrong. I wish it hadn’t taken such an extreme set of events for me to reconsider, but I don’t know that I could have listened to reason if it hadn’t threatened my life. That’s rather fucked, isn’t it? I’m so sorry. I am just so sorry, Granger._   
>  _Third, it’s important to me to explain that I never expected to escape imprisonment. I took the Mark knowing I would have to atone for it if I didn’t die before Voldemort fell. It was more important to me to do something to protect my mother than it was to keep my hands (and forearm) clean. I took the Mark with the understanding that I had no other options, and that I would never be forgiven for any actions I had already taken or would take in my life. I still regret that I didn’t have the wits to see any other way out at all. I guess there’s a reason I wasn’t sorted into Ravenclaw, eh?_   
>  _I now consider that the rest of my life is an odd sort of gift (if the Wizengamot doesn’t change their minds). I’m thinking about the future for the first time since I took the Mark, and I find myself hoping you’ll be returning to Hogwarts for a real N.E.W.T. year. I want to know which of us will come out on top if neither of us is dealing with imminent death. For as much intelligence as the Ravenclaws have, I know you and I are each other’s biggest competition, and I intend to finally best you in the only way that ever actually mattered._   
>  _Please let me know if you ever want to know what happened that day. I was only gone for a few minutes as I hoped I could do something to prevent her from, I don’t know, but I am just so sorry for everything, Hermione. I’m sorry._   
>  _-D.M._   
>  _P.S. I meant what I said yesterday morning. Short hair suits you._

Hermione had absolutely no idea how to process any of Draco’s letter. She re-folded it and put it back in the envelope after reading it just once, looking up at Harry and Ginny who stared at her expectantly.

“What?” She reached for her coffee cup and found it empty, so she levitated the carafe over to the table to pour another cup.

Ginny slapped the table, rattling the dishes. “What did the bloody git say?!”

Hermione took a sip of coffee. “Uh, he said thank you, and that he’s sorry, and that he’s looking forward to next school year.”

Harry tried to grab the envelope, but Hermione slapped his hand and grabbed the envelope to shove it in her front jeans pocket. “That can’t be ALL he said! That letter was two pages of tiny writing, Hermione!”

Hermione turned away from them and got off the bench. “I just don’t think it’s any of your business, Harry. He did say things, but as he didn’t say them to you, or around you, I don’t feel right showing you what he wrote.”

“But, I showed you what he wrote to me!” Harry had a little bit of a whinge in his voice, unused to being told no by Hermione.

“If you don’t drop it, I won’t try to unstick Walburga Black before we go back to Hogwarts. I’m going to go take a shower before we go.” She flounced out of the kitchen with her coffee mug.

Harry called after as she approached the stairs. “Thank you, Hermione!”

Rereading the letter in private, Hermione let herself feel the emotions she could not feel in front of Ginny and Harry. She found herself astonished at Draco Malfoy for exactly the opposite reason she had ever been before. He was sensitive? He had regrets? What the fuck was happening?

She read the post-script over and over and stared at herself in the vanity mirror. She was a different person to herself on this Wednesday morning than she had been when she arrived on Monday evening. It was not even about her hair, although that was certainly a part of it. What pieces of herself had she replaced this time?

And, who was Draco Malfoy now? Which pieces of him had been replaced? She could not possibly trust the word of a Slytherin that he had changed. It was far easier to slap paint over rot than it was to replace those pieces instead.

After her shower, oh, her hair was so much easier to deal with now! It took one drying charm to get it dry instead of five, and it really did only take a quick _Parere Capillum_ to get it to do what she wanted after that. She kept just a touch of body and it curled cutely at the base of her neck and forehead to look just a little shaggy all over.

When she returned to the kitchen, Harry had departed for the Ministry again, leaving Ginny reading the paper with her coffee. Hermione poured the last of the coffee into her mug. “How many times did you kick Harry’s arse at Goldeneye last night?” She had gone to her room to read after dinner as she was exhausted from the day.

Ginny smirked from behind her mug and shrugged. “Oh, I just played Mario while Harry ate me out.”

Hermione quirked her mouth in disgust. “Ugh, I’m so happy for you?” She took a large swallow from her cup. “Can you help me with silencing Walburga while I try unsticking her?”

The redhead finished her coffee and nodded, shaking the paper to re-fold it. “Let’s go. Then we’ll head back to Hogwarts?”

It took them fifteen minutes to find the right combination of counter-charms, but at the end, Walburga came free of the wall, doing only a little damage to the wainscoting in the process.

Ginny cast her patronus, a horse, and sent it to tell Harry, “The Black bitch is free of the wall! We did it! Girl Power!”

Hermione grabbed her friend by the shoulders and put on her stern voice. “Who taught you about Girl Power, Ginevra?” She shook her a little. “Who taught you that phrase?!”

Ginny just cackled.

Back at Hogwarts, Harry had apparently given everyone fair warning about what to say about Hermione’s hair as threatened by Ginny.

Ron’s eyes went wide as saucers, but all he said was, “That looks great, Hermione. You look beautiful as always.” He glanced nervously at Ginny, who nodded.

Seamus and Dean stood next to each other like the creepy twins from _The Shining_ and recited their lines together. “Hermione, that looks great. Does it feel good to make a change? You look beautiful as always…” Their eyes widened and they stared at her as her giggles turned into a belly laugh.

Neville waited until they were leaving dinner to whisper in her ear. “Hermione, your hair looks great. I hope it feels good to make a change… You look beautiful, but you always do.”

Hermione blushed and laughed, leading him down the hall where they could be less observed. “When did you become so smooth, Neville Longbottom?”

Neville smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Not sure, probably during your year of camping?”

She looked up at him. His face was the same one she knew for the past seven years, but so different at the same time. “You really like my hair? You don’t miss the long hair?” She looked down self-consciously. What if it had been a huge mistake? What if boys would not be able to see her as a girl anymore?

He frowned in confusion and cupped her cheek. “Yes, of course I like your hair. I like it now, and I liked it before, but for totally different reasons.”

She caressed his hand on her cheek. “You’re not just saying that to be nice?”

“No, I’m not just saying that to be nice. I really like that I can see your face, but I guess I can see how you would think that, after Harry told us all what to say. Ginny really scared the shit out of him, I guess?”

Hermione laughed and recounted Harry’s reaction to the reveal of her haircut. “He looked more scared by Ginny in that moment than when he was fighting Voldemort, honestly. I can’t blame him, though. Voldemort just wanted to kill him, but Ginny looked like she was going to hex his bollocks off.”

Neville shuddered. “Ginny IS far more terrifying than Voldemort.”

She shrugged. “Maybe it’s a guy thing. Ginny doesn’t scare me that much.” She found herself noticing how close they were standing, the physicality and heat of his body so near to her own. She looked up at his face again. He was biting his lip just a tiny bit.

They spoke at the same time.

“Would you like to get out of here?”

“Neville, can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”


	8. Gangplank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione sees her favorite book then takes a nap.
> 
> tw: panic attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the continuing comments! I'm always excited to post the next chapter.

June 20, 1998

The weekend arrived, bringing Harry and a few more transfigured bottles of Firewhiskey on Friday night. Hermione was convinced that Prof McGonagall was turning a blind eye to the parties on the weekend.

The finishing touches had been applied to the dormitories in Gryffindor Tower, and all the weekday volunteers moved in until school began again. There were only about thirty people who regularly stayed overnight besides the professors, and there was plenty of space for everyone.

Ravenclaw Tower had not been damaged as badly as Gryffindor, but the reconstruction would be less straightforward than Gryffindor’s, due to its closer proximity to central structural collapses. It would have to wait until closer to the end when more of the castle was accessible on all floors and the major structural issues had been resolved. 

Slytherin’s dormitory was still mostly flooded until McGonagall could find an appropriate specialist to plan the reconstruction. Each morning, two teams of volunteers would go down on brooms to update the charms keeping the lake from completely flooding the dungeons.

Hermione would have thought that the castle could do the structural repairs itself by now, but it seemed to be doing nothing yet. Every time anyone asked if the castle was repairing itself, Prof McGonagall’s mouth hardened into a line, she shook her head, and then changed the subject. Everything from _Hogwarts: A History_ indicated that the castle should be doing some of its own repairs, but it was not.

The Hufflepuff dormitory would be reconstructed this weekend as it was part of the foundation under a group of classrooms that had been the initial resting place for a dying giant. The building had been smashed down to the bedrock and would need a full two days to reconstruct up to ground level.

Saturday consisted of half a day of removing rubble from that section of the East Wing. By mid-afternoon, the weekend crowd moved on to the initial placement of the supports and the ground floor. They moved like synchronized swimmers as the ceiling of the dorm/floor of the classrooms above were slowly lifted piece by piece and bolstered with temporary stabilisers and the seams between the sections were all carefully transfigured together.

Hermione tripped as she neared her section to bolster it. She looked down and saw a copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ covered in dust. There was a sudden aching in her chest. She hoped the owner of that book had gotten out safely. She pictured a tiny Hufflepuff girl reading it for the first time and that same kid being crushed in their dormitory during the battle. She felt herself breathing heavily.

As Molly rushed to her own place, she nearly ran into Hermione frozen in the throughway. “Hermione? Do you need help? Are you alright, dear?”

Hermione could only shake her head. Molly sent up blue sparks to signal an injury. “I have to go to my spot, dear. I’ve alerted the Healers.”

A healer that Hermione did not recognise found her a moment later and asked a series of questions she could not parse. The healer led her away gently and sat her down in a tent out of sight of the construction. She pictured Cedric Diggory, dead on the ground at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. Justin Fitch-Fletchley petrified by the basilisk. Harry in Hagrid’s arms as Voldemort screamed. She pictured everyone she knew bloody and crushed and dead and she could hear someone screaming.

It was Hermione. She was screaming and she could not stop and now she could not breathe. Where was all the air? Someone was forcing a potion into her mouth but she kept choking because she could not breathe.

Then Harry was there and he was not dead. He was kneeling in front of her saying her name.

“Hermione, Hermione, come back, I’m right here. I’m not dead. I’m alive and I’m right here, Hermione. Can you breathe in for me? I’m going to count to five and and I want you to listen to my voice.” Hermione tried to breathe in, and it almost worked the whole time he counted to five.

“That’s good. Now I’m going to count to five again and I want you to breathe out and listen to my voice.” Hermione could feel her breath stuttering on the way out. She felt hot and wet for some reason.

“Good, Hermione. Let’s breathe in and out together just like that for a bit. I’m going to sit next to you now, but I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.” She felt the pressure of his leg against hers as he sat next to her. They breathed in and out to a count of five, then a count of seven, then ten. Hermione could feel the tears wet on her face and how wet her t-shirt was. There was a potion or vomit on it. Why had she bought a fucking Ramones t-shirt? She barely knew who they were. This was going in the bin as soon as she had a chance.

“Harry, do you remember why I bought this shirt?”

“No. Was it while we were in hiding?”

“It must have been. I’m sorry you had to stop what you were doing to come take care of me. I’m so embarrassed.”

“It happens to all of us, Hermione. I barely sleep from the nightmares. Why do you think I got a therapist?”

“Because you’re just that kind of bourgeois arsehole?”

“There she is. You had us all worried, Hermione.” He pulled her head down to kiss her forehead. “You seem to have calmed down enough to take a Calming Draught. Will you have some? It should help you at least not have another panic attack for the rest of the day.”

“I think I better. Thank you, Harry. How did you know I needed you?”

“Well, you were screaming pretty incoherently, but you did call for me a couple of times.”

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. Suddenly I just saw everyone dead.”

“Shh, shh, you’re shaking again.” He handed her a vial. “Here, swallow this. Can I send in Luna to be with you? I do need to get back to it.”

Hermione swallowed the chamomile-flavored potion and nodded. She saw that she was inside the medical tent, sitting on a cot, staring at the white tent wall.

Harry kissed the top of her head again. “Luna’s here now. Love you, Hermione. Scream if you need me again.”

She gave a half smile. Luna appeared and plopped down on the floor beside the cot. “Hi, Hermione. The nargles were certainly thick down there, weren’t they?”

Hermione closed her eyes and laid on her side. She could really use some nonsense right now. “What are nargles, Luna? I’ve only ever heard YOU talk about them.”

Luna’s voice got excited. “Oh, they are invisible beings that latch onto negative emotions and the energy of destruction, feeding on it and creating more of it. When I was captured, the cellar was full of them. Fortunately, I had company. Nargles hate calm conversation. I’m really glad you asked about them, Hermione.”

Hermione felt that she was falling asleep. “Will you hold my hand, Luna? I think I’m just going to take a nap.” She felt Luna’s hand slip into her own.

“I’m not going anywhere, Hermione. You’re safe now. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Hermione let herself drift off to sleep as Luna sang a low song to herself in a language Hermione did not recognise.

When she woke again, Neville was sitting on the floor with Luna as she ate a pasty. They had clearly cast muffliato so they did not disturb her. Her heart felt full at how much care everyone was taking with her. She felt so stupid. It was just a book. Why had it triggered all this?

She felt a sob escape her again and she let go of Luna’s hand. She could suddenly hear them both. Neville was pressing another vial into her hand and helping her to sit up to swallow it, murmuring kindly to her. Luna was rubbing her arm.

“Hermione, it’s alright, we’re all here. Harry is alive, we’re all alive. Take your potion. There you go. Can you tell us what’s wrong?”

“I’m so embarrassed. It was just a book! I helped save the world and I get laid out by a book? My favorite book? This is so bloody stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. You’re not the only one who gets startled by totally normal things and loses your senses. You survived a war and saw terrible things. It’s okay to not be okay sometimes.”

“I know, but I’m the strong one. This isn’t supposed to happen to me!”

Luna and Neville both wrapped their arms around her. “You don’t have to be the only strong one now, Hermione. You can be soft and collapse and we’ll all be here to catch you and be strong for you and each other.”

She nodded and tears fell down her face. Ginny burst into the tent then. “Oy, Hermione, you dead?”

Hermione laughed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Thought I was. Guess not yet…”

Ginny grinned like one of the twins. “Good. You’ll never guess who’s arrived for his probation a day fucking early.”


	9. Mizzenmast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco, Hermione, and Harry discuss the use of surnames in emoting. Minerva fears for the safety of a table. Seamus and Dean talk to Hermione and Neville in the dark.

June 21, 1998

Draco Malfoy had a certain kind of reverse-celebrity in the castle now. Hermione watched him receive actual hisses several times on Sunday as he failed to blend into the crowd. 

So at lunch Sunday, she made a point to sit with him. Luna joined her and although Malfoy said nothing at the meal except, “Granger, Lovegood,” when they sat down, and “Granger, Lovegood,” when he got up from the table, he had at least paid attention to whoever was speaking and made no expressions of disgust or contempt. He even seemed neutrally interested when Luna explained to Hermione about a new magical device she wanted to invent to see some of the less visible creatures she knew must exist.

Hermione did get the impression Draco was looking at her more often than he looked at Luna despite Luna doing most of the talking. They made eye contact more during that lunch than they had in the entirety of their sixth year combined. And, Hermione had been watching him that entire year, almost as closely as Harry had been watching him.

He looked much improved from his trial, as his black eye was healed entirely and his hair was back to its white-blond perfectly-coiffed-ness. Did he use charms or potions for that? She found herself wondering if it was soft or hard. Soft probably meant charms and hard meant potions.

No, that was not true. She did not _find herself_ wondering, she was definitely just randomly speculating based on information she was taking in from her direct field of vision. That was all. She was certainly not daydreaming about touching Malfoy’s hair.

As soon as Malfoy got up, Hermione thought of Neville and looked around for him.

“Have you lost interest for now, Hermione?” Luna’s head tilted and she blinked slowly.

Hermione felt ashamed of herself. She should be paying attention to Luna, not trying to catch a glimpse of Neville for no reason. “I’m sorry, Luna. I think I lost the thread of what you were saying.”

Luna nodded. “It’s hard to listen to me when Draco’s nargles were sucking all the energy from the air around us.”

“Yeah, probably.” Hermione could not commit to the existence of nargles, no matter how convincing Luna could be on the subject.

After the previous day’s panic attack, Hermione was put to work on the top side of the Hufflepuff dormitory construction. She cast what were essentially diagnostic charms to measure how much of each section of the ceiling/floor needed to go up or down to end up with a perfectly level surface. It required immense concentration and coordination with the four other volunteers doing this job to get it right, and they performed their jobs perfectly. The afternoon felt as if it had gone by in the blink of an eye when Flitwick finally announced it was structurally as perfect as it could be. The top-side workers could hear a great whoop come from below them, which Hermione guessed was about the same as when McGonagall transfigured the top of Gryffindor Tower last week.

Hermione made her way out onto the grass where she had left her canteen. Harry and Malfoy landed near her after being part of the air team for the afternoon. She slowed down slightly to hear what she could before actually joining their conversation.

“Yeah, I mean, we do just sort of sit and stare at it, but it’s like a play, so it’s not boring.”

“But then, why go into public to do it? Don’t they have those boxes that do the same thing in everyone’s homes?”

“Different art forms need different mediums of expression, Malfoy. You’re enough of an upper-class arsehole to know something about art, aren’t you?”

Malfoy coughed a little. “Er, I would really prefer to just go by Draco now. Can only hear a sort of high hissing pitch when I hear the surname now.”

“Ugh, yet another thing that monster ruined. I can’t very well say Dray-coh with the same contempt, can I?” Harry clapped Draco on the arm. “I guess we’ll have to be friends now I can’t sneer your name through my teeth anymore.”

“Poor Potter. I’m sure you could rustle up some contempt saying Draco. It used to be your favorite past time, apart from running around trying to murder a pensioner.” Draco looked directly at Hermione then with a wry smile.

Hermione felt drawn into the conversation. “First, if Harry has to call you Draco, you have to call him Harry now.”

Draco shook his head. “Nope, never going to happen. They’ve taken so much from me already, at least leave me the joy of seething ‘Potter’ through clenched teeth, Granger.”

She gestured that part away as Harry’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “Second, when was Harry trying to murder a pensioner?”

Draco let out a weird high-pitched giggle and doubled over. “The monster was only about seventy years old. He had the weirdest turns of phrase he broke out sometimes. He once told a room of us we needed to get something called Brothel Creepers, so we could sneak up on people more easily. It took me three days to find out what the hell he meant as that is some weird slang from the fifties for rubber-soled boots.”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other in silent confusion and concern before Draco noticed them. He shrugged. “I guess you had to be there.”

They replied simultaneously. “No, I don’t think so.”

The three wandered into dinner together and the Great Hall went quiet at their entrance, half the hall staring at two-thirds of the Golden Trio laughing and chatting with the Littlest Supporter of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Hermione was already sick of it and marched forward to climb up on one of the tables.

“Okay, I’m going to say this just once.” She gestured to herself and Harry. “We deserve to forgive anyone we see fit. Draco fucked up, and I’m sure he’d love to say sorry to anyone he has personally wronged. If I hear anyone else harass him in any way, well, let me just remind you that someone’s acne never cleared up after fifth year.” She put on her most determined face.

Prof McGonagall stepped forward. “Thank you, Miss Granger, for that rousing defense of your ideals. Now, the dining tables are sturdy, but they were not designed to be stood on.”

“Yes, of course, Professor…” Harry held out his hand to help her down.

Draco held out his hand to gesture to the table before them that had been half-vacated when Hermione climbed onto it. Hermione nodded and crawled onto the bench, drained of any desire to be seen after McGonagall chastised her. She spied Neville trying to catch her eye. He gave her a little thumbs up and she blushed. She caught a glimpse of Ron over his shoulder in an animated argument with his sister.

Her newest friend sat down next to her as Harry circumnavigated the table to sit across from them. He spoke softly into her ear as she reached for a pitcher of lemonade. “Thank you, Granger. I slightly wish you hadn’t done that, but I’m not going to say you shouldn’t have. I wouldn’t want to mar this beautiful complexion if you think I’m harassing myself.”

She leaned away so she could take him in. “I don’t know, you could do with a bit more character.”

He put on a mocking face and wiggled his head a bit as he reached for the beef wellington. “Is that why you blushed at Longbottom? His face got some character?”

Hermione felt her stomach drop. Everything had been going so well. He was refraining from his previous prattish tendencies. Then he went and teased Neville. What was she supposed to do?

She frowned and busied herself with her lemonade. She was vaguely aware of Harry and Draco talking about quidditch. She could only seem to tear apart her sandwich without actually eating it. Somehow everything was getting louder. She looked up and Dean and Ginny had joined them, Ginny almost screaming at the boys about how “they’d recover a lot faster if they got better brooms, and you all KNOW IT.”

Hermione slipped away and went outside where it was nearly dark and quiet and cool. She wandered down near the lake where one of her favorite trees had survived the battle. She sat watching the moon rise over the lake. She heard a couple giggling as they passed behind her.

She lost track of time and awoke to a silver stag leaning over her with an open mouth that sounded like Harry. “Hermione, where are you? Come back to the castle, we’re all worried about you.”

The stag dissipated after doing its job. Hermione sighed. She really did not want to go back, not knowing how she felt about chunks of the people she would find there. She made a decision and cast two patronuses.

“Tell Harry, ‘No.’” One otter went scampering off into the night.

“Tell Neville, ‘You can find me.’” The second otter went scampering off into the night.

The couple from earlier returned, talking in low voices until a thick Irish accent called out. “Hermione, is that you?”

She cast Lumos. “Oh, hi Seamus, Dean…”

Dean smiled and waved. “Hi, Hermione.”

She gestured to where they were holding hands. “Should I keep this a secret?”

Seamus let go a laugh that echoed across the stillness of the lake as Dean rolled his eyes. “Merlin, no, you silly swot. This went public last year when you were out chasing relics to kill the snakey bastard.” His eyes danced a little. “Nice of you to ask, though. We were rather outed against our will. It’s a bit of a funny story, really…”

“Hermione?” Neville jogged up to them all. “Are you alright? Hi Seamus, Dean…”

Dean raised his finger in exclamation. “Hey! That’s what Hermione said!”

Neville looked confused for a moment before shaking his head and returning his attention to the girl sitting on the ground. “Are you alright?”

She shrugged. “Bit of a weird night.” She released the Lumos, plunging the group into darkness again.

“I’ll tell you that story some other time, yeah? There’s a lovely little patch of bushes down the way if you’d like some more privacy. Or, stay here if you two are the kinky type?”

“Seamus!” Hermione screeched in embarrassment.

Dean pulled Seamus by the hand. “Let’s go before you get hexed, boyfriend.”

Neville sank to the ground beside Hermione. “Was it like yesterday? Why you disappeared?”

She shook her head then realised he probably could not see it. “Uh, no. Actually, Draco said something that made me feel weird about us.”

“Do you want me to go fight him? I will. I’m not afraid of him, not after fighting Crabbe AND Goyle that one time.”

Hermione pushed him a little. “No, he said something about your looks that made me feel bad about being nice to him.”

“It couldn’t be worse than everything Gran and her friends have been saying about me since I was a baby, can it?”

She sighed. She could see his face as the clouds drifted by and let the moonlight hit them again. He still, somehow, looked innocent. “He asked if you made me blush because your face had gotten more character.”

Neville laughed loudly. “That’s a fucking compliment, Hermione!” He paused for a moment. “Ooo, Draco Malfoy is jealous of Neville Longbottom. This could be fun…”

“No, that can’t be. He was just being a prat again.”

He leaned forward and kissed her urgently on the mouth. “Nope, I’m right. I can tell I’ll have to convince you, but that’s okay. I’ve been practicing standing up to you since first year, and I’m getting pretty good at it.”

Hermione laughed and kissed him back. Their kissing escalated to her sitting on him, before she banished the relevant clothes, then grinding and kissing just because it felt nice, and finally Neville cast the contraceptive charm so Hermione could ride him to both of their peaks.

Afterward, Harry’s stag returned. “Seriously, where the fuck are you? Are you hurt or just moping? No is not enough of an answer for disappearing entirely and no one can find you.”

Hermione did not need to conjure a happy memory to cast a return patronus. “Fuck off. You’re not in charge of me, and I’m not alone, and it’s none of your business.”

“That was a little harsh, wasn’t it?” Neville was playing with her fingers as they lay next to each other in the moonlight.

“He asked me before where I was and I was capable of a reply, so why couldn’t he leave it at that?” She sighed. “We had to be so involved in each other’s lives for so long, I think he thinks I’m an extension of him, but I’m not. I’m just me.”

“Does he know you feel that way?”

Hermione curled into his side. “I don’t want to have to say it. I want him to want me to be who I am as a separate person.”

He kissed the top of her head and put his arm around her. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but Harry will not understand that if you don’t tell him. I’m not saying you will never get things you want if you don’t ask for them, but in my experience, you will have to ask for people to treat you the way you want to be treated. Merlin’s hat, I’m bad with words.”

Hermione shook her head and ran her fingers up his shirt to the fine hair on his chest. “You’re not bad with words, Neville. You’re actually much better with some words than anyone else I know.” She looked up at the stars. “It's been a long time since I could just let things out and talk about feelings. Ron is absolute rubbish at it, and Harry still only barely lets himself think of me as a girl. And, it’s just been the three of us for so long, and I can’t talk to my parents because they don’t remember me, and Ginny is Harry’s girlfriend, so I can’t talk to her about him or Ron, and Luna is great at listening, but not so great at feedback.”

Neville shrugged, his voice having an odd tone to it now. “Ginny might surprise you. And, Luna’s certainly on her own amazing wavelength.”

She pushed herself up and stared down at him. “Do you fancy Luna?”

“Only for forever, Hermione. I thought it was obvious.”

“No! No, it wasn’t!”

“Oh, yes, I do.” He paused as she settled back down on her back. “Do you find you don’t notice when people fancy each other? You knew Seamus and Dean were together, right?”

“I didn’t, actually. I offered to keep their relationship a secret and they laughed at me.”

“So, can you tell when people fancy you?”

“Not until they do something about it, or someone else says something. I knew Viktor liked me because he asked me to the Ball, and because Ron lost it whenever he talked to me. I knew Cormac liked me because he asked me to the Slug Club party. I never really knew Ron liked me exactly, I just knew he was mental around me and I was mental around him. I guess I knew you liked me, because you asked me to the Ball, too, but you never did anything else about it, so I sort of forgot about it entirely.”

“Hmm, interesting.”

Hermione flipped over. “Why? I’m sure lots of people can’t tell that kind of thing.”

“I bet you couldn’t tell if someone liked you right now.”

“Well, I hope you like me. You have shagged me every other night for a week now.”

“Of course I like you, but we don’t exactly fancy each other. That’s what I’m talking about.”

“Fine, no, I probably couldn’t tell if someone fancied me.”

“Hmm, interesting…”

“Stop saying that! What’s so bloody interesting about this?”

“Oh, lots of things. Hermione Granger can research the hell out of anything. I’m sure you’ll figure out some interesting things yourself if you research.”

“What the hell does that mean, Neville?”

He laughed. “Nope, I think you’ll believe it if you read it in a book, so I’ll let you figure it out.”

“You suck at being smug, Longbottom.”

“I could suck at something else instead, if you like?” He tilted her head up and kissed her again. She eventually took him up on sucking at something else, then repaid the favor in kind.


	10. Boom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco begin a correspondence. Harry and Hermione discuss the future. Hermione, Neville, and Draco discuss the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very excited to finally post this chapter. It's one of my favorites!
> 
> Let me know what you think, or just smash that keyboard to represent your feelings.
> 
> TW for a panic attack

June 22-27, 1998

Hermione was wary of Draco for the next few days. She could feel him watching her sometimes, and occasionally, he caught her eye and smiled or nodded to her. She found she did not want to talk to him, but she did want to remember why she had given him a chance. She wanted to feel the way she felt when she read his words for the first time, so she pulled his letter from her pocket when she was alone and re-read what he had written to her over and over until she had almost memorized it. She vaguely hoped she never memorized it. She really liked seeing his handwriting like this. She enjoyed having a physical sense of who he was in his head. She puzzled over why she felt so strangely about him now.

By the middle of the week, she could not sleep with thoughts of how fucking confused and frustrated she felt. Maybe she needed to clear the air about the whole thing. She had never written back to him, so she would write back to him now.

> _Dear Draco,  
> _ _I want to clear the air between us. I feel odd about how much you revealed in your letter after the trial, and I don’t know why. Why did you say all that? You said you were sorry 5 times, Draco. You seemed like you were going to be really different, and then you made fun of Neville like that at dinner. He thought it was a compliment and that you were jealous of him, but that wasn’t how it felt when you said it to me. Why did you say that to me?  
> _ _I thought this was going to be a different kind of letter, like maybe I could understand you better if I said something about myself, but I don’t really find that I know what to say to you that can compete with 5 I’m sorries. Because you said we’re competing now, too, which, we always were competing, you were just an arsehole about it. If you’re not being an arsehole anymore (which, you are, by the way), does that make me the arsehole? Fuck. You’ll be extremely lucky to receive this letter if I end up sending it. Ugh, what the fuck is wrong with you, Draco?! You make me so angry!  
> _ _Why did you have to say that about my hair? I don’t doubt you meant it, I just don’t understand why you would say that? And, why was that all you said to me when I walked into the courtroom? And, why were you pretending to sleep all day at your trial? That was a ridiculously stupid thing to do. Honestly, what did any of what you said in court mean? And, why didn’t you testify for yourself? What did you mean when you said “they don’t treat self-injuries, that’s what prison is for”?  
> _ _Why are you like this?! I can’t stop shouting at you in my head, and I don’t know why! Fuck you, Malfoy! Fuck you so hard! I hate you, why did you do this to me?  
> _ _Ah!_

To Draco F Malfoy, In Gryffindor Tower Where He Sleeps Better Than He Should.

That would do it. She would see what happened when he lost some fucking sleep over _her_ for once!

When Hermione sent the owl off at three in the morning, she felt no better and felt maybe a touch or two worse. Then, she physically ran into him when she re-entered the common room on her way to try to get at least a few hours of sleep. Had she just threatened him? Everything felt a bit fuzzy tonight. Had she signed the letter?

She still could not fall asleep, despite having gotten _something_ out of her system. It had been too much. He did not deserve all of that vitriol. She felt terrible and sick and still could not sleep. She was the kind of terrible person she was accusing him of being. She woke Ginny with her crying.

“Oh no, do you need a potion? Did you take your Dreamless Sleep? Should I get McGonagall? I’m rubbish at this stuff.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, it’s nothing. I’m fine.” She cast muffliato so her sobs did not disturb anyone else’s sleep.

She finally fell asleep around the time she should have been getting up for breakfast. She woke to Luna knocking on her bedpost, the room bright with afternoon sun.

“Hermione, it’s after lunch. Are you feeling well?”

Hermione felt suddenly that maybe she deserved a bit of a lie in. “No, I’m not feeling too well. I had a bad night. Is Prof McGonagall angry at me for skiving off the morning?”

“No, she heard from Draco that you were up in the night and she figured you must be sick.”

Draco. Fuck. Fuckity fuck.

“Do you think the elves would bring me a sandwich and some juice if I promised not to give them clothes?”

“I can ask. Any particular kind of juice or sandwich?”

“I better not press my luck with them.”

Hermione recovered adequately that afternoon, reading more about memory and memory charms.

Then, she spent three days waiting for the other shoe to drop. She barely saw Draco. They were never anywhere near each other in the work groups, and he seemed to leave every room when he saw she was in it.

Finally on Saturday morning, at a normal time for the post to arrive, a letter dropped onto her plate. To Hermione MF Granger, Eating a Baguette with an Embarrassing Amount of Butter in the Great Hall.

She looked down at her plate. God, but she did love butter.

She shoved the rest of the baguette into her maw and crawled off the bench, shoving the letter into her pocket with the other one. She went into one of the partially rebuilt classrooms and closed the door.

> _Dear Granger,  
> _ _Why did I say all of that in my last letter? I thought that if I opened the door, some of the warm air from the place you are might make things a little less frosty where I am.  
> _ _Why did I say that about Neville to you? I wanted to tease you. I didn’t want to tease him. Not sure what teasing him would have gotten me. As I recall, you said my face could use some character, which I took as a tease at me, then I asked if Neville having a face full of character was why you blushed at him, which I intended as a tease at you. I would say I’m sorry for teasing you, but I’m both not sorry, and you don’t seem to like it when I say I’m sorry and I don’t want to stay on your bad side. So, I’ll just say I wish that instead I had said that Harry has enough character on his forehead for everyone in our year, so giving any to me would be overkill.  
> _ _If I’m not being the arsehole anymore (which I very much am, by the way, Draco Arsehole Malfoy, ugh), does that make you the arsehole? I mean, as we’ve established, yes, I am the arsehole. Me, Draco Arsehole Malfoy. I’m the biggest one you’ll meet apart from my dear imprisoned father (who you should never meet if you can possibly help it). It is by far my worst quality and I deeply hope you never replace me on the throne as King of the Arseholes.  
> _ _What the fuck is wrong with me? Ah, the question I’ve been asking myself daily and nightly since August 2, 1996. You’ve got me there. Probably brought up badly, at least half badly. Mother did as well as she could. It is probably cold consolation, but I also make me angry, so  
> _ _Why the fuck did I say that about your hair? “Purebloods” are big on stereotypical femininity and I really appreciated that you didn’t seem to give a shit about that, but you’re still definitely not a guy. I like that you’re a girl, Hermione. I hoped you got enough compliments on your hair so you don’t go back to having a lot of it again. Don’t get me wrong, this is no backhanded compliment. I liked your hair long, too. You just look more like you with short hair, and the more time goes on with you having short hair, the more you look like Hermione Granger as Herself.  
> _ _You don’t understand why I would say that? Hard to say. I’m generally agreed to be The Worst, so understanding any of this is a lesson in disappointment.  
> _ _Why was that all I said when you walked into the courtroom? At the risk of saying things you wouldn’t want to know, I had several other thoughts, but you’ll probably hex my arse off if I tell you, and then how would I ascend my throne as King of Arseholes. I said it because I hadn’t seen you since you got your hair cut and I was surprised and I thought it would be nice to say something nice to you since I’d never really said any of the nice things I’ve thought about you in the past. Chalk it up to turning over a new leaf and all that.  
> _ _Why was I pretending to sleep all day at the trial? Well, that was not all pretending. Azkaban without the dementors is still prison. Everybody there has done terrible things (at least everybody had that I saw), and so everyone has screaming nightmares every night and no one really gets any sleep. So, I fell asleep in court every time I was hearing things I’d heard before. It’s nearly the only good skill I learned in the clink. I’d been told I’d learn how to do real crime there, but it was all lies.  
> _ _What did any of what I said in court mean? I really do like your hair. It looks like it’s soft, which is a good look for you. In Azkaban, they do only heal injuries that are not self-inflicted. They let you do whatever you want to yourself short of suicide as part of the punishment. The fact that I hadn’t been convicted yet didn’t matter. I think part of this was wanting to know how I got the black eye in the first place. My best guess is that I hit myself in the face during a nightmare. Woke up with it like that about a week before the trial, and since I had been alone in my cell when it happened, they wouldn’t treat me. As for asking you about using my surname again, I just really liked hearing my name in your voice. You make me sound like someone else, not really me. Someone worthy of having their name in your mouth.  
> _ _Why didn’t I testify for myself? It wouldn’t have done anything useful.  
> _ _What did I mean when I said “they don’t treat self-injuries, that’s what prison is for”? Here’s one right back at you, what do any words mean? They’re the worst, getting all slippery when you least expect it… Suspicious, if you ask me. But, that’s not one of the things you asked me. C’est la vie.  
> _ _Why am I like this? I’ve answered a similar question prior to this one. I’m like this because it is really fucking hard to be a different person. I’ve tried to be different. I thought it might be working, but then it turned out I’d just converted to a different kind of not very good. Now I’ve got to try something different. I’ll keep trying until a change takes as it feels bloody terrible to be cruel, especially when you didn’t know you were doing it and you’re woken three days later by a frustratingly spelled-closed envelope and then body-checked by a cute scary girl.  
> _ _Why did I do this to you? As previously stated, I’m The Worst, King of Arseholes, Draco Arsehole Malfoy. I haven’t the foggiest idea what “this” is, but I beg your forgiveness most intensely.  
> _ _With all the questions "answered", I’d like to address a couple of other things you mentioned in your letter. Yes, I said I was sorry 5 times because I didn’t have any other words to use to express that feeling and how intense it is for me. I don’t believe I have any other thing that I feel more intensely than I’m sorry, Hermione Granger.  
> _ _I make me very angry, too. My continued existence makes me very angry. I also don’t have any outlet except screaming at myself in my head. Fuck me. I wish you didn’t hate me, and I’m sorry it distresses you so much.  
> _ _-D.F.M._

Fuck.

Four and a half pages this time. Fuck.

She re-read it. Fuck.

She wanted to drown in it, slip into a bath of his words and just cover herself with them, let them wash over her until she was breathing his words. Fuck.

She could not hate him. Fuck.

Fuck him. Oh, no, fuck her.

This was all madness. What was she going to do?

Half an hour later, Harry came bounding up the stairs and entered the Great Hall as Hermione was approaching Prof McGonagall for her assignment. Harry came up to Hermione and hugged her tightly.

“I’m sorry, I was a git last weekend. Can we talk later?”

Hermione found tears forming in her eyes. “Yes, of course. I’d like that.”

He let go and gave a small salute to McGonagall before looking around for Ginny.

“Miss Granger, I need to say something.” Hermione froze and stared at Prof McGonagall. “I understand you’ve been under a lot of stress, and I want you to know that if you need to take a break, we can handle everything here without you.”

Minerva McGonagall was not prone to talking about feelings, so even this small show of concern overwhelmed Hermione. She just needed to keep herself from sobbing, so she nodded in acknowledgment and squeezed her arms around herself.

Prof McGonagall placed her hand gently on Hermione’s arm. “You don’t need to be here to keep us safe and on track, my dear. We have everything under control, and you can take a step back to relax. I would encourage you to start with taking today off.”

Hermione choked out a sob but nodded and rubbed her tears away. Luna appeared at her side. “Miss Lovegood, would you take Miss Granger to get a cup of tea and a Calming Draught? Thank you.” She patted Hermione on the arm again. “Miss Granger, I hope you decide to take the day off today. If you do decide you would like to work, please report to the hospital wing to assist Madam Pomfrey today.”

Luna led her away. “Do you WANT some tea, Hermione? I rather fancy a pumpkin juice myself.”

Hermione shook her head. “Tea, please.”

“Do you think you’ll take the day off, then?”

Hermione shook her head again, still unable to speak without the fear of breaking down crying again.

They arrived at the hospital wing and Luna conveyed Hermione’s prescription to Madam Pomfrey. Hermione could not make eye contact with the Healer. She felt so ashamed to be breaking down again. She blamed that damned letter from Draco.

Fuck that molten pool of words from Draco Malfoy that dropped onto her plate and simultaneously made and ruined her day.

She had been fine this morning before the letter, and now she was a teary fucking mess.

Madam Pomfrey fed her the Calming Draught and dismissed Luna. “Miss Granger, I’d like for you to do triage on incoming patients. With this many people moving rubble, we’ll have quite a few injuries. When performing triage, your job is to assess the severity of the injuries, and as you are not a licensed healer, you should not be doing any actual healing. Diagnostic and stasis spells only.”

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. She knew what triage meant… “Yes, Madam.”

She pulled a book from her bag and sat at the triage desk with a cup of tea as she had been instructed. It took almost no time for the injured to start pouring in. She found it unexpectedly difficult to do only diagnostic spells and answer questions, as she had fixed worse injuries in her friends for the past seven years. As the morning wore on, she slipped once or twice, cleaning and closing a cut here, then performing an episkey there. Madam Pomfrey and the actual healers were busy with broken bones and crushed everythings. She was helping!

At lunchtime, Madam Pomfrey approached her. “Thank you, Miss Granger, that will be all for the day. I am disappointed that you could not follow the triage protocols. Please report back to the Headmistress.”

Hermione was entirely stunned. “No! No no no no no! I didn’t mean to! You can’t dismiss me! You can’t! I’m needed! I swear, I’ll do it right this afternoon! Please! Please, Madam! Please!”

She felt herself gasping for air. The room felt very small or she was very large and very small at the same time and she could not take in everything all at once. She was sitting down now, and her head had been shoved between her legs and someone’s hand was on her back, rubbing in gentle circles. Tears ran down her nose and landed on her shoes. Why does this keep happening? Why does this keep happening?!

“Because you haven’t taken any time to rest after such a traumatic year, dear.” Madam Pomfrey replied in a gentle voice and helped her sit up.

“Did I not just think that?”

Pomfrey gave her a sympathetic shake of the head. “No, you were asking why this keeps happening. Four or five times.” She led Hermione over to one of the hospital beds. “Have you been sleeping at all, Miss Granger?”

Hermione scoffed. “As much as I can. Everyone is still screaming at all hours of the night from the nightmares. Not everyone’s silencio lasts all night.”

Pomfrey made a noise of acknowledgment. “Have you been finding that you must stay busy or you’ll just think about the things you’ve experienced?”

“Yes, of course. That’s why we’re all here…”

“What about the people who only come at the weekend?”

“They have other things to occupy them during the week.”

Madam Pomfrey summoned a Calming Draught and had Hermione swallow it before continuing.

“Hermione, I believe that for your long-term health and the success of your eighth year, you need to spend at least a few weeks away from Hogwarts, including the weekends. Your need to simultaneously be involved and distract yourself is not conducive to healing from your trauma. I will be speaking to the Headmistress about this and I hope you will think about the patterns you’re ingraining in yourself by staying here for the duration of reconstruction as you are. This is not your job, nor should it feel to you like it is your job to fix everything. Too many people have put too much responsibility on you specifically, and you cannot continue as you have been.”

Hermione was shocked into silence.

“Please consider what I’m saying. Just consider it. You may go back to the dormitory, or stay here. I am prescribing Dreamless Sleep every night until you leave my care. She summoned one and pressed it into Hermione’s nearly-limp hand. “Here is one if you would like to nap right now.”

Hermione stared at the vial in her hand. She definitely did not want to nap. She wanted to go do something. Anything, really. She put the vial in her pocket with Draco’s letters and got out of bed. When she stepped out of the cubicle, she saw that the Headmistress was in Pomfrey’s office with the door closed. She hurried out of the hospital wing.

In the Great Hall, she found Harry and Ginny fully wrapped around each other across from Ron and Luna who also looked quite cozy. She huffed. “Could one of my best friends possibly remove themselves from the attentions of the opposite sex and come help me with getting kicked out of Hogwarts?”

Everyone at the table froze. Harry disentangled himself and crawled off the bench. He gestured to the side door to the newly-restored veranda. “Step outside, then, I guess?”

Hermione stormed off ahead of him. Why was everything changing? Why was she so fucking angry all. the. time? As soon as she got through the doors and saw there was no one outside, she rounded on Harry. “McGonagall and Pomfrey are going to make me leave! I don’t have anywhere to go! All because I couldn’t just do diagnostic charms this morning! What am I going to do, Harry?!”

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione found she was not done.

“Everyone thinks I’m weak, but if I hadn’t been so strong for so long, we’d all be dead! Why doesn’t anyone see that? And now they want me to ‘rest’ because I’m ‘jeopardizing my health and the success of my eighth year’. Who is going to be strong if I’m not, though, Harry? Ron ran away when things got too complicated, and now you’re just playing video games all the fucking time. Who’s going to be strong so I don’t fucking have to, Harry?”

Harry burst. “Stop, Hermione! Just stop it! You aren’t actually the only strong person we know, and you know we didn’t do this alone, Hermione!”

“No, Harry, YOU didn’t do this alone. I actually was alone, all the time. All the time. I was with you, but you couldn’t handle anything that wasn’t about your mission. I was keeping all your shit and all of Ron and my shit and all of my own shit inside so I didn’t distract you from your holy fucking duty to wizarding kind.”

“No one asked you to do that, Hermione! You could have talked to me about whatever you needed to. You chose to keep everything to yourself! Don’t put that on me!”

“Fucking when, Harry? When was I supposed to talk to you about obliviating my parents? When we were all dealing with terrible thoughts from the locket, or, oh, maybe when we went to see your old destroyed house on fucking Christmas? And when was I supposed to tell you about how confused I was about how I felt about Ron, when he was around, or after he left and we could barely speak about him at all? Oh, and what about getting tortured on the floor of our oldest enemy’s house? Was I supposed to tell you immediately after, or just a couple of days later how close I was to telling her how we really got the sword?”

Harry’s face was stone.

“Don’t tell me how many choices I made to be alone, Harry. You made choices to think only of your mission and you don’t even know the choices I had to make.” She was shaking, but somehow not crying.

“Hermione, I didn’t do anything wrong. You can’t blame this all on me.”

She laughed bitterly. “Oh, don’t worry, this is only coming out at you because you’re right in front of me right now. I could have said the same or worse to almost any of our friends.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Harry cleared his throat. “I was going to tell you today that Ron and I were accepted into the Auror training program that starts in October. We’re not coming back to school this year.”

“Perfect. I wasn’t looking forward to doing three people’s worth of N.E.W.T. work this year. Since you’re taking Ron with you, maybe I’ll have time for a social life outside schoolwork.” She brushed past him and went back inside, taking a muffin from the nearest table and leaving to go back to the dorm.

Of course, she had to pass by Draco in the common room with Neville, of all people. She tried to just pass through without having to talk to them, but Neville smiled widely and called out to her, standing up to get her attention.

“Hermione!”

For a split second, she considered not stopping, but Neville had done nothing to her that she could justify being a bitch to him right now, so she stopped and tried to smile.

“Hi, Neville.” Draco turned to look at her. “Draco.”

“Hermione.” His voice was softer than she thought it in her head.

“I don’t want to interrupt anything. I’m pretty tired, just going upstairs for a healer-mandated nap right now…”

Neville frowned. “Is Madam Pomfrey worried you’re not getting enough sleep? Did you fall asleep on your shift this morning or something?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, I…” She could not decide how much to reveal with Draco here. “Uh, Pomfrey and McGonagall think I’m trying to do too much and not letting myself rest after the year we had. So, I’m supposed to take a nap.”

Draco turned his head and mumbled something.

Hermione had her wand out immediately and stepped forward. “What the fuck did you say, Malfoy?”

“Expelliarmus!” Her wand jerked from her grip and sailed the six feet into Neville’s off-hand. His voice remained calm. “Hermione, what the hell? Why would you draw your wand on Draco?”

“What did he say?!” Hermione stamped her foot.

Draco turned around in the armchair he occupied to face her. “I said, it’s about time someone noticed you. I’d add now, it’s about time someone in a position of authority noticed you’ve been running yourself ragged trying to take care of everyone you’ve ever met.”

Hermione started at his words. “What? I don’t do that.”

Draco cocked an eyebrow and Neville looked at the floor as he spoke. “Don’t you, Hermione? You’ve been taking care of everyone in our year in Gryffindor since you were eleven and a half. They made you a prefect so you’d do it to everyone else, too.”

She felt herself turning away. “No, they made me a prefect becau…” Why had they made her a prefect? Morgana’s tits, why had they made her a prefect?!

“Oh my god, they did.” She felt dizzy, and the edges of her vision darkened. Draco leapt over the back of the armchair and supported her to sit down in it. “They set me up to take care of Harry and Ron and now that they don’t need me anymore, they want to send me away to rest, as if they ever made it so I even COULD do that.”

Neville swore under his breath and handed her wand back to her. “What do you mean, they want to send you away?”

She closed her eyes. “McGonagall and Pomfrey want me to leave and not be part of the cleanup and reconstruction for a while so I can rest or something. Pomfrey said if I kept going like I was, I would be jeopardizing my health and potentially the success of my eighth year…”

Neville was kneeling in front of her now. “Merlin and Morgana, that sucks, Hermione. Are they forcing you to leave? Do they have somewhere for you to go?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t know, they were talking in her office when I left the hospital wing. I don’t know where I could go. I just had a huge fight with Harry and I can’t take back some of the things I said, so I don’t think he’ll let me stay at Twelve Grimmauld. Maybe I should go back to my parents’ house? I haven’t been there since I sent them away.”

Draco chuckled. “I’m sure my mother would love to have you as a guest.”

Hermione stared at him in shock.

He waved his hands in negation. “No, no, not at the Manor. As soon as we can, we’re tearing that place down and salting the earth.” Her face relaxed. “We have a townhouse in North London, probably fairly near the old Black place, if I’m understanding what Twelve Grimmauld is.”

Hermione shook her head. “I couldn’t impose.”

He shrugged. “If you end up leaving, I’ll just let her know you’re spending time away from Hogwarts and she’ll probably extend her own difficult-to-escape invitation.” He smiled almost sweetly. “She really likes you.”

“I felt like that came through when she threatened Rita Skeeter for taking a picture of us at lunch during your trial.”

Neville had sat on the floor by this time. “That sounds more terrifying than the mad bastard, if I’m honest.”

Draco shrugged. “I mean, on the one hand, she’s my mother, and on the other hand, she lied to the mad bastard’s face and subtly defied him pretty much constantly, so, yeah, I could see how that’s terrifying. Imagine what the world will be like now she’s harnessing all that for the betterment of society, instead of pureblood supremacy.”

Neville reached up and poked her muffin. “Was that a snack for later, or your lunch, Miss Granger?”

“Oh, uh.” For a second too long, she debated whether to lie and say it was a snack for later.

Draco arched an eyebrow again. “You’re not very good at lying, Hermione.”

She shot him the V with her fingers. “Fine, it was literally the closest thing to me when I was rushing through to get away from Harry after our fight.”

Neville sighed. “Have you considered that part of why you feel so upset right now is that you’re not eating enough? What did you have for breakfast before you went to the hospital wing?”

Hermione glanced up at Draco. “Just a baguette with an embarrassing amount of butter on it.”

He smirked and winked behind Neville’s head.

Neville poked her hand to lift it up to her face. “Please eat your muffin, Hermione.”

She frowned and looked into their earnest, weirdly unguarded faces. “Fine, but only if you both stop staring at me, and tell me when you got to be such good mates.”

Neville swiveled where he sat. “Well, we’ve been in the same work groups all week. Draco’s changed a lot, said he was sorry, and we’ve just been talking about this quarter’s _Herbology & You_.”

Hermione nearly choked on her bite of muffin. “Wait, Draco, you subscribe to _Herbology & You_? I find that hard to believe.”

Draco tilted his head in a way that reminded her of Lucius Malfoy. “Yes, well, Mother is an avid gardener, and she grows some of the rarer potion ingredients for use in the family business. The gardens of Malfoy Manor were rivaled only by the library.”

She thought that an odd thing to say but decided she was hungrier now than she was curious. As she finished her muffin and vanished the napkin, a thought occurred to her. “Don’t you both have somewhere to be this afternoon? Work?”

Neville shook his head. “I’m taking the afternoon off. I was thinking about going down to Hogsmeade and seeing if anything is open besides the Hog’s Head.”

Draco shrugged. “That actually sounds like a fine idea to me, too. McGonagall gave me the weekend afternoons off since I’m the only person required to be here, and they can’t really force me to work all day every day until school starts. And, I think she wanted to keep me out of sight when the weekend crowd is thickest. Apparently she got a howler or two after last Sunday when I was up in the air rubbing everyone’s nose in the fact I’m free.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Why doesn’t anyone understand what acquitted means?”

Draco frowned and looked down, his voice softening. “But, Hermione, I wasn’t just acquitted. They did find me guilty, too.”

She frowned. “I’m sorry, I forget that part.”

He looked directly into her eyes and shook his head, almost whispering. “I won’t ever.”

Neville cleared his throat in a way that reminded Hermione of Kingsley. “How can you forget that, Hermione?”

She stared out the window for a moment. “I suppose it’s because the bit Draco WAS found guilty of, I know he did it under duress in the first place, so he shouldn’t have been found guilty.” She met Draco’s silver eyes again. “He’s not guilty in my mind, and that’s the only place I care about.” She looked at Neville. “That’s why I forget. I--”

Dean and Seamus burst through the portrait hole then. “Oh, hi you three!” Seamus was his ever-effervescent self.

Hermione waved slightly and pulled herself up from the armchair. “I’ve got to go. Things to do, you know.”

She bolted through the door to the staircase and heard Dean ask behind her, “Do we stink or something?”

She fell into bed, closing the drapes. She pulled the vial out of her pocket with the letters from Draco. If she was forced to do nothing, she would really do nothing, and sleep through the day. She swallowed the potion and pulled Draco’s letter of this morning from its envelope to re-read it again. She liked it much better now, after their conversation. It was somehow the least bad thing that had happened to her today. She found herself chuckling to herself at some of the things he said as her eyes drooped closed.

Draco was so nice now. She really liked him.


	11. Bulkhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione receives an invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to post a chapter yesterday, so I'm posting two today.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and let me know what you think!

June 27, 1998

Hermione woke to Ginny shaking her shoulder.

“Oy, Hermione, Mum wants to talk to you but you’ve been asleep all afternoon. It’s after dinner now and they want to go home.”

Hermione’s voice croaked. “Well, I’ll see her tomorrow. I’m sure it’s fine. I just want to go back to sleep.”

Ginny pulled her to a sitting position. “She says it’s important and she needs to talk to you now. She can come in to talk to you if you want.”

Hermione flopped back down as soon as Ginny let go of her. “Fine. Send her in.”

Ginny disappeared and a moment later Molly appeared. The way Molly sat on the side of her bed gave Hermione the unpleasant sensation that although this was _a_ mother, this was not _her_ mother. She sat up, heading the sound of tearing parchment.

“Hermione, dear, oh! Muffliato! Hermione, dear, uh, the Headmistress told me you could use a bit of a holiday from the reconstruction. I thought you could come back with us tomorrow to stay a couple of weeks since you stayed here at the beginning of the summer.” Molly smiled at her in that motherly way that just made Hermione want to run away.

“Err, can I think about it? I don’t know what I want to do yet. It feels like giving up a piece of myself to leave right now.”

“I understand, love. I hope you know that if you ever want to have a chat and a cuppa, my floo will always be open to you.” Molly got up from the bed and hugged Hermione close, smothering her slightly. “I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

Hermione flopped back in bed and stared at the canopy above her. Her stomach felt empty. She wondered if the house elves would give her something to eat, and how she could signal to them that she was not going to try to give them clothes to free them.

“House elves? I’m not sure how to call for you… House elves?”

A small elf popped into the room by the door. “What is Miss wanting?”

Hermione got up from the bed to come closer to the elf, but it held up its hand. “We won’t be taking any clothes from Miss, so don’t try it. Wippy isn’t afraid of Miss, but she shouldn’t be trying anything.”

She put her hands up to show she had no clothes, nor was she holding her wand. “I’m sorry. I won’t try to give anyone else clothes if they don’t want it. I promise on my word as a witch.”

The elf nodded. “What is Miss wanting?”

“I was on a potion that made me sleep through dinner. Can I have a sandwich and some juice?” As she had never before availed herself of the house elves’ hospitality, she did not know how much she needed to tell them about why she missed dinner.

“Wippy will fetch it for you. Madam Pomfrey was also requesting we give you another dose of your potion so you can sleep well again. Wippy will bring it to you, too.”

“Thank you, Wippy.” Hermione watched the elf disappear and reappear ten seconds later with a tray of sandwich, crisps, and juice with a vial of Dreamless Sleep nestled on the side.

“Thank you again, Wippy.” She took the tray and placed it on her bedside table.

Wippy spoke up again. “If Miss is needing anything else, please call for Wippy by name. The other elves don’t trust Miss, but Wippy isn’t being afraid of freedom anymore.”

The elf disappeared again.

Hermione sat on the bed and fell sideways onto her pillow. The house elves were just the icing on the cake. She did rather want to escape, although it felt like giving up. But, she wanted to be here where there were things to do, and she had a chance of being needed.

She considered what it might be like to not be needed. She supposed it would feel quite lonely. But then, she had felt quite lonely while she _was_ needed, and that also felt powerfully awful.

She quite liked that Neville did not seem to need her, but he did want her. That felt like nothing else before. Something about her relationship with him was powerfully reparative. She felt like it was really very lucky that she could be friends and more with him this summer.

She thought through all her relationships, and she considered that she might be unfair in thinking that they needed her. Maybe they just needed the idea of her? She needed to feel like she was needed, and the idea of what she would do if she was not needed felt slippery. That thought did not want to be examined, so she turned and met it head-on.

What if they really did not need her, like McGonagall and Pomfrey said? What if she was just making herself worse for no reason? Was she causing more problems for everyone this summer? What would happen if Hermione actually disappeared? 

She rolled her eyes at herself. There was no need to be dramatic about it. What would happen if she fucked off to the Burrow or Narcissa’s townhouse for a couple of weeks? She would miss all her friends. She was getting much closer to Ginny and Luna, and she shared lunch with Ron several times this week in a perfectly polite way that made her feel like the good old times that barely were. Harry was only there on the weekends, but she thought it might be a good idea to take a break from seeing him for a while.

Then, there was Neville. She would definitely miss Neville. Shagging Neville. Talking to Neville. But, everything seemed like something someone else had done. This day had been so long and she only spent half of it actually doing anything.

Oh god, why did she feel like such a different person now than she had been this morning? What had happened in that nap? She rolled over onto her side and stared at the sandwich she still had not touched. Parchment crinkled in her bedding.

Draco’s letter! She had been reading it before her nap and she must have rolled all over it in her sleep. She found all the pages and cast a charm to unwrinkle them and repair a tear in one of the pages.

Would she miss Draco? She had no idea. She still barely knew him. She felt like there was something he wanted from her, but she also had no idea what that something might be. She had barely spoken to him except last Sunday and this afternoon. Maybe if she went away they could be quill mates.

She frowned and buried her face in her pillow, missing the hair that would have hidden her face for the first and only time. She really was not needed here. The thought left her feeling empty. She had put up such a fierce fight this morning, but there really was no reason to fight this. She would go, and maybe not come back until school started again.

She tucked into the sandwich and took big gulps of the juice to wash it down. It was her favorite kind of sandwich, ham and turkey with mustard and pickles. Did the house elves keep track of the favorite foods of everyone in the school? Merlin’s hat, that was impressive.

She re-read Draco’s letter again and again. Why could she not just put it down? She had the sensation of swimming again, just floating on her back and luxuriating in all his words. He literally answered every single question she asked. Even the ones she had been asking herself. He gave her answers, like a gift. She wanted to put the words in her body. What was happening? She was horny for a letter? She put it away and took the Dreamless Sleep, pulling her drapes closed.

It could have been worse. She could have been horny for Draco himself. Small blessings.


	12. Ballast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco answers a few more questions of Hermione's. Molly and George have heart-to-hearts with Hermione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two new chapters today to make up for my forgetting to post yesterday.
> 
> As always, let me know what you think!

June 28-29, 1998

At lunch the next day, she announced to everyone who had not yet been alienated by her behavior that she was going to spend some time at the Burrow until school started, or until they needed her for further castle reconstruction, whichever came first.

Luna smiled. “That sounds like a good idea, Hermione. Molly told me I could come stay as well, but Dad is going to be done restoring the house soon, and I’ll only have a couple of weeks with him there before I come back to the castle.”

No one had much of a reaction to her news like she thought they would. They all said they would miss her, but that just felt like something they were saying because it was what you said to someone who was leaving. She felt quite alone again.

She spent the afternoon packing and finding books to keep her occupied. Neville and Luna kept her company in the library and helped her search for the kinds of books on the mind that she was particularly keen to read.

After dinner, she hugged everyone goodbye, lingering long enough on her hug with Neville that Ginny wolf-whistled and called “Get a room, just not mine!” She wandered out to the entry hall where the elder Weasleys waited to side-along apparate her to the Burrow. To her surprise, Arthur was speaking to Draco in hushed tones, his hand on Draco’s shoulder.

Molly smiled at Hermione. “Ah, there you are, my dear. You’ve got everything, then?”

Hermione patted her beaded bag and nodded.

Draco turned to her and smiled hesitantly. “Can I have a word before you go?

She nodded and they went a little way down the hall before he cast the muffliato.

He ran his hand through his hair before shoving his hands into his pockets. “I just wanted to say again that if you need anything, I’m here for you. I want to be here for you. I know you read my letter from yesterday, and I just need you to know, I’ll answer any question you ever have.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

He took a deep shaky breath. “You deserve answers, Hermione.”

“What does that mean?”

He chuckled. “Wow, you’re worse than Skeeter. Uh, it means any information you need that I have, you deserve to have because you’ve been wronged, and you deserve anything you need to find peace.”

“What did you mean when you said it was warm where I am and frosty where you are?”

He sighed and smiled. “Maybe I was just being too poetic. You feel so warm to me, Hermione. I just hoped that some of your warmth might find its way to me if I weren’t such a King of the Arseholes _all_ the time.”

She stepped forward into his space and wrapped her arms around his middle. He froze and then hugged her back like she was a lifeline. “I’m going to miss you, Hermione. You’re the best part of being here again.”

She nodded against his chest. “Write to me? I know I owe you a letter, but…”

“Yes, of course. I’ll write you letters every day even if you don’t write back.”

“Really? Why?”

“Yes, really. Because you asked.”

“Every day is too much.” She thought a moment. “Every three days is alright.” She felt hot suddenly and pulled away.

Draco was smiling at her. “I can do that, Hermione Granger.” He looked past her to where the Weasleys were still waiting. “You’d better not keep the most ginger family alive waiting any more.”

She nodded and looked at his face again. “I’m going to miss you.”

His mouth quirked and he shook his head a little. “Well, that’s better than hating me.” He looked like he was debating whether to say more. “Have a good summer, Hermione…”

He bent over slightly to touch his forehead to hers then wandered away down the hall.

Hermione felt oddly full and empty at once. She thought she was going to cry and she had no idea why. She returned to Molly and Arthur and they walked out to the apparition point. The Burrow had been made unplottable again and Hermione side-along apparated with Molly to just outside the wards so she could find it herself again in the future.

Molly set her up in Ginny’s room. “Make yourself at home. Let me know if you need anything. We want you to rest up as much as possible.”

Hermione frowned with some contempt, feeling a physical difference in her mood now. “Sure. Now I’m not needed, I should just rest up and what? Forget about everything I had to do to stay alive and safe?”

Molly pulled her immediately into a hug and would not let her go. “No, dear. You won’t ever forget. But with time, you won’t feel like something needs to happen all the time for you to feel whole.”

Hermione could feel her face wet with tears and she was clutching Molly, hard. “They might never remember me… so I can’t forget! If I don’t keep trying now, they definitely won’t ever…” She let out choking sobs into Molly’s shoulder, drenching her summer blouse.

“I know, dear. I know. What you did was more than one person can bear, dear. I know it doesn’t help to know that you did what you thought was right to keep them safe. It’s still too much for one person, Hermione. You’re not alone.”

Hermione kept sobbing and sobbing until her throat was parched and she could barely breathe for how swollen her face was. She pulled away from Molly finally and Molly spelled away everything from her sinuses, which helped quite a lot.

“Tank oo.” She was so tired.

“Madam Pomfrey gave us about a week’s worth of Dreamless Sleep and about two weeks’ worth of Calming Draught. Would you like one or both of those now?”

Hermione sat on the bed. “Yes, just Calming Draught for now. Can I keep a Dreamless Sleep here so I can change my mind on it later?”

“Of course, dear.” Molly leaned down to kiss her forehead. She pulled one of each vial from her pocket and laid them on the bedside table. “If you’d like anything special for breakfast, let me know.”

Hermione shook her head. “Thank you for everything, Molly.”

Molly nodded and looked like she was about to cry herself. “You’re so brave, Hermione. We all just want you to be as alright as you can be.” She left the tiny room and closed the door behind her with a “goodnight’.

She plopped her beaded bag on the bedside table and heard something fall over it inside, clattering on its way down. Bloody great. The charmed space needed a good cleaning anyway. She would worry about that in the morning. Or afternoon. She would not need to be anywhere or do anything until further notice. Bloody fucking hell, how had she gotten herself kicked out of Hogwarts?

She pointed her wand into her bag and accioed some parchment and her quill plus her magically miniature chest of clothing. She embiggened the chest, grabbed a pair of pajama shorts and a camisole and shoved the chest under the bed where she usually stowed it when staying here with Ginny.

After changing into her sleepwear, she took the Calming Draught and sat down at the small desk that faced the single window. She really needed to think of what to say to Draco. Talking to him tonight had felt like the beginning of something, but also like she would never see him again. It had only been a week and a half since his trial and he suddenly seemed like a vital part of her life. Her first order of business on this holiday from real life would need to be figuring out what was going on with Draco Fucking Malfoy.

> _Dear Draco,_
> 
> _It still feels odd to call you Draco as you’ve been Malfoy in my head and in conversation for so long, I don’t know quite who Draco could even be. But, then I also feel like that person I used to call Malfoy only exists in memory. You take up the same space he did, but he was Malfoy and his space made me feel worthless and like I had something to prove. And, you’re Draco, and the space you take up makes me feel like I can… I don’t know. I tried for ten minutes to put into words what Draco makes me feel like, and the best I could come up with was strange in a good way. It is really frustrating to not know how to say something. I’m obviously not used to it, and I want to kick something._
> 
> _Nothing that has happened since your trial makes any sense to me. I don’t think it has anything to do with your trial, but it feels like it does, and that makes me think it has something to do with you. What did you do to me? You can choose not to answer that one. I’m not sure it’s even a real question._
> 
> _Remember when you said you felt “I’m sorry” so much but you had no more words to express it? That is how I feel about What did you do to me… What did you do to me, Draco? I don’t know what you did to me, but I’m different now, and I don’t know what to do. Did you do something to me? I can’t tell exactly, but it feels like you did. What did you do, Draco, what did you do to me? Am I taunting you with your promise to answer every question? Can anyone know the answer to that question but me? Will we ever know? Will you really do what you said? Will I have to wait three days to find out?_
> 
> _It was only a few hours ago that you said me missing you is better than me hating you, and I have to say, they’re both exhausting. It would be much better if I could just have something in the middle, whatever that is. I suddenly wonder if it is enough to just put a question mark at the end of a sentence? How would you answer a question that is definitely not a question?_
> 
> _I couldn’t stop crying for a bit when I got here. Molly is not my mum, and I don’t want to feel like my mum is here, but it was really nice to feel like a mum cared about me for a bit. No one took care of me during the war, not really. I don’t want to be this hard person who is angry all the time. And, I don’t want to be this person who needs to be needed all the time. And if one more person tells me I need to rest, I’m going to punch them, I don’t care if it’s an old lady, honestly. The whole thing is so complicated._
> 
> _I don’t hate you, Draco. I’m sorry I said that. I’d also like to take back the Fuck Yous, as I don’t feel that way anymore. How did you do that?_
> 
> _~Hermione MotherFucking Granger_
> 
> _PS~ For fuck’s sake, call me Hermione. I like seeing it in your script…_

Hermione borrowed an owl the next day and sent it off. She decided that if she was going to be isolated like this, she should really invest in her own owl. That afternoon, she flooed off to Diagon Alley to find her own owl at Eeylops’ Owl Emporium. She chose a screech owl who she named Oscar and returned to the Burrow.

Of course, Crookshanks was sitting napping in a chair when she stepped out of the fireplace, and yowled loudly at her replacing him with a fucking bird of all things. At least, that was what Hermione thought Crookshanks would say. She had already explained to him last summer that she had to leave him behind for his own safety, but he would not trust her anymore. For all intents and purposes, he was Molly Weasley’s cat now.

She took Oscar out to the tiny owl house the Weasleys kept and fed him some owl nuts. His pointy feathers fluttered slightly and he let out a rolling hoot.

She went back inside the house and found George in the kitchen. She realised she never saw him at Hogwarts during construction, and actually had not seen him since the Battle. “Hi. How are...things? Are you alright?”

George dunked his teabag in the World’s Best Dumbledore mug and stared at her.

“I got kicked out of Hogwarts for not relaxing? Pretty much went mental.” She selected the Merlin’s Saggy Y-Fronts mug, and poured some hot water from the kettle into it to reveal the afore-mentioned Y-Fronts. “Harry and I got into a screaming match. Ron has barely talked to me since I declared I’d hex anyone who harrassed Draco Malfoy a week ago.” She pulled a teabag from the box and dunked it into her own mug. “I had a panic attack that you’ve likely heard about already, then another one when I couldn’t stop myself from healing people in the hospital wing when I was supposed to be triage only.” She nodded.

George leaned back against the counter with his legs crossed at the ankle and sipped from World’s Best Dumbledore. “That’s a fucking lot, Hermione.”

She kept nodding in time with the dunking of her teabag. “A bit of a fucking lot, yeah. So, you?”

He shifted slightly and took another sip of tea. “Business is finally doing a bit better since the war. Of course, I can’t manage going in to work, but at least it turns out no one else has lost their sense of humor.” He grimaced and shook his head, sipping deeply again.

“Not great, then?” Hermione tried a sip of her tea. The bag had leaked its contents into the water. She suddenly had no idea what spell would separate the tea detritus from the water.

George frowned at her. “No, definitely not great, Hermione.” He took another sip. “So, you’re meant to just sit around annoying everyone here until September First?”

Hermione’s eyes filled with tears. Why could she not think of the spell to filter things from water? “Guess that’s what McGonagall and Pomfrey had in mind.”

“See you around, then.” He made a spinning motion with his wand as he passed her and the tea leaves spun out of Y-Fronts and fell gracefully into the sink. “And, the spell you were looking for was _Nihilum_.”

Hermoine stared down into the mug and her eyes overflowed. Was she the arsehole now? Maybe Draco would let her share the throne with him. King and Queen of Arseholes. Well, there was another Weasley she had alienated.

Molly came in from the garden then. “Oh, there you are, dear! How was Diagon Alley?”

Hermione wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and took a sip from her mug. “Fine. I got a screech owl named Oscar. He’s in the owl house now.” She sighed. “Molly, I never thanked you for taking care of Crookshanks when we left.”

Molly dropped the basket of vegetables on the counter. “Oh, it was no trouble, dear. Crooks is a good boy, good mouser. He’s really made himself at home here.”

Hermione looked over at the cat in the chair. “I think this is just his home now. He won’t let me pick him up anymore, so I can’t take him with me.” She sniffed, feeling the tears coming back. “I think he’s your cat now, Molly.”

She was pulled into another big hug, which she accepted more quickly than the last. “You did what you felt you had to do, Hermione. You could only do what you had to do, and it was terrible. We were all so afraid for you all, dear, all the time. I knew you had had to do something to keep your parents safe, but none of us knew what that was until it was too late to undo it. I knew in my heart you were all my children when you left. Of course Ron is my blood, but you and Harry were both clearly all alone starting that summer, and I couldn’t stand the thought you weren’t also my children.”

Molly pulled back from the hug and pointed to her magical clock. There were four hands pointing to Home: Molly, George, Fleur, and Hermione. Two hands pointed to school: Ron and Ginny. Five hands pointed to Work: Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, and Harry. Charlie’s hand dipped to Mortal Peril and then back to Work as apparently something had just Happened with a dragon.

“We love you like you were our own daughter, dear. We would do anything for you within our power. I know we’ll never replace your parents, but we don’t want to replace them. We want to do whatever we can to help you get them back if that’s possible.”

Hermione frowned. “I really was just talking about Crookshanks.”

Molly busied herself with her vegetables again. “I’ve always found that when I’m upset about everything, it all gets tangled up together, one thing leading into the next like spaghetti. I’ve also been a mother for almost thirty years, and I know that most of the time, if you’re upset about something odd, there’s something related but worse underneath it.”

“Oh.” Hermione needed to be gone. “I’m tired. I think I’ll take a nap.”

“Alright, dear. Sleep well.” Molly had moved on to housework.

Hermione bounded up the stairs to her room. That had been too much, way too much. How dare she. How very dare she. Hermione could not even put it into words past that. She was so angry again.

She pulled out a fresh slip of parchment.

> _Dear Draco,_
> 
> _Apparently I’m a bit much right now. What am I going to do? I almost yelled at Molly, and she just wanted to comfort me about my parents. I feel like I’m going to die here, away from everyone. How am I going to make it to September?_
> 
> _Oh, and I was a fucking massive bitch to George, too. I can’t stop saying absolutely the wrong thing. It’s like a disease. Fuuuuuuck…_
> 
> _Now I’ve taken a nap and eaten dinner, I’m still deeply ashamed of myself, but it doesn’t feel as bad as before. I’m not sure I ate lunch, thinking back on it…_
> 
> _Molly has been acting like a mother to me, and it feels good and bad. The fact I may never get my own mother back makes it hard to be mothered. I wish I’d never left Hogwarts. At least there, I… nope, I don’t know what I had there. How massively fucked…_
> 
> _Tell me something about you. You’re getting an awful lot of material to hold over me, Draco. I demand equivalent material if we’re really equals._
> 
> _~Hermione Mother Fucking Granger_

Hermione frowned. Was it too much to keep sending him letters?

She grabbed a new slip of parchment.

> _Dear Luna,_
> 
> _How are you? Hopefully things are going well at the castle. Does everyone know why I had to leave? It’s only been a day and I feel like I’m going mad out here._
> 
> _I think I keep making people uncomfortable with how I’ve been acting, but I don’t know how to stop. I don’t feel like I’m real anymore, Luna. I can’t tell how to stop doing what I’m doing that’s making everyone upset at me._
> 
> _Maybe everyone was just friends with me because I’m smart and know how to study. Now Harry’s going off to be an Auror with Ron, who can’t even look at me. I don’t know what to do._
> 
> _Are you and Ron together now? Is he your soulmate and you just didn’t want to say anything when we were talking about it? I’m sorry if you didn’t think you could tell me. You are important to me, Luna. I’m sorry if I haven’t made you feel that way._
> 
> _Tell me about yourself. I feel like I don’t know you as well as I should._
> 
> _Love, Hermione_

And, suddenly, it felt like she should also write a few other letters.

> _Dear Harry,_
> 
> _I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was already upset when we went outside (obviously), and I took it out on you._
> 
> _Molly said something to me today that feels very true. When I get upset, it’s like spaghetti, all tangled up with everything else I could be upset about._
> 
> _I don’t feel like I was completely alone all the time, but I also don’t feel like you know everything that was happening with me. You knew I had to obliviate myself out of my parents’ memory, but you never asked me anything about it, or let us get closer since we both have no parents now. Or, I guess I don’t know if I have a chance to get my parents back. I’ve done a lot of research, and the level of spells I used, I’m pretty sure there’s no hope. I don’t know what to do if I can’t restore their memories. What if I can’t even find them again?_
> 
> _It just feels really terrible that you never asked me about any of that. I told you about it once, and then it was never spoken of again. Why did you think I never spent any time at home after I turned 17? Did you ever notice that even before we left school I never talked about them except in vague terms, or that I never went home again? Not sure why I’m asking all these questions, as I doubt you have any answers for me._
> 
> _Harry, I love you like a brother, and I wanted to help you and be there for you when you needed support to kill Voldemort. I also deserved to be a person, not a coping mechanism and research machine. I don’t know what to do about our friendship. We’ve been through too much to be in a fight like this, and I do need you, I just need you in a different way than you’ve been available up to now. I need for us to build up the missing pieces of our friendship._
> 
> _Love, Hermione_
> 
> _PS- Draco and I are corresponding and I like it. What do I do?_

She trotted down the stairs to get a cup of tea.

Molly was in the kitchen with the Live Laugh Leviosa mug and some kind of wizarding romance novel. A man with no shirt, chiseled abs, a kilt, and open robes was clutching a witch in a way that looked sexy but incredibly uncomfortable. Their hair was flapping in the wind and occasionally the man’s hair would whip across his face in a way that looked almost painful and he would grimace in a sexy manly way. “Oh, there you are, dear.” Molly closed the book and put it facedown. “Can I make you a cuppa?”

Hermione shook her head. “Actually, it’s making me rather uncomfortable how much a member of the family you want me to be.” She looked down. “I’m just going through too much to add a new dynamic to it, and I feel like it’s too much for me to have you treating me like I’m a member of the family.”

Molly looked sad but nodded. “I’m sorry I’ve made things harder for you, dear. I do want to protect everyone and I guess I went overboard trying to make you feel like you belonged with us.” She paused, considering something for a moment. “What relationship would make you feel best from us right now?”

“Just older friends who know me well.” She sat at the table. “I always liked that you and Arthur could tell me about wizarding society and that you weren’t my parents. Family for me doesn’t feel how magic feels.” She thought for a moment. “I guess that’s part of why it’s so hard for me to think about doing what I did to my parents. I put my magic into them and now I can’t think of them without also thinking about the magic. And, even if I somehow get them back, it can never be like it was. It’ll never be like going home to my non-magical family. That will always be a part of our relationship, and I can’t ever take it back entirely.”

The older woman put her hand on Hermione’s on the table. “I know you. You will find a way to fix their memory, or you will find a way to live with the consequences.”

Hermione’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Thank you.” She let out a breath she did not know she was holding. “I did come down to get some tea.” She got up from the table and picked out a mug, Giant Squids Do It Better (the handle was one of the tentacles), putting the kettle on to heat. She returned to the table.

“Molly, how are you doing? All of you? No one ever mentions Fred.” She frowned as she had not really had an entrance or exit strategy for this topic and she was only now realising it.

Molly’s eyes filled immediately with tears. Her mouth was in a trembling line.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up… I’m so so sorry!”

Molly shook her head. “No, dear. I’m never not thinking of him. I mean, this isn’t the order of the world. Parents shouldn’t see their children dead.” Tears flowed down her face and she pulled the handkerchief from her pocket to dab her eyes. “We’ll always have that hurt. And, we’re lucky we didn’t lose more of the family. Many families lost far more.” She seemed to be getting herself agitated in a different direction to stop crying. “We’ve got to do what we can to help now.” She nodded firmly and somewhat tersely.

Hermione was astonished at the transformation from crying into resolve. The kettle began to boil then, letting out a head of steam and a full melody in its whistle. She got up and poured the water for herself, then excused herself as Molly had returned to her book.

Could she find a way to flip the switch on herself as she had just seen Molly do? Why did she want to write to Draco about this immediately? She had not even sent this afternoon’s letter yet! That meant she could add another letter to the envelope!


	13. Fo'c'sle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione receives letters from several people and takes a walk. George and Hermione discuss feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for a panic attack

June 30-July 5, 1998

Hermione wrote to everyone she knew in the next week. She ran out of parchment and had to go buy more twice. She had always seen writing as simply a part of studying and homework, but now she felt like it was just for her. She received letters from Draco exactly on time from when she had told him he was allowed to write her. It never felt like enough.

> _Dear Hermione,_
> 
> _Hopefully that was a good one. I’d hate to disappoint you when I can’t be there to see you pout myself._
> 
> _I like that I don’t make you feel that way anymore. If I still did, I would have to do something drastic. I’ve been thinking a lot about how to not just try to be better, but to actually be better, and it’s headache inducing. Mm Pomfrey says the headaches are a side-effect of the Mark’s magic dissipating, but as I’m so far the only marked Death Eater to receive actual medical care, how can we know for sure? I’ll continue to believe the headaches are just my mind wrestling with how to be a better person._
> 
> _I won’t allow you to take back the Fuck Yous. They were one of the best parts of that letter. I especially liked how you’d almost ripped the parchment and rather clearly broke your quill at least once with how angry you were. It felt warranted to me, and I won’t give them back unless you ask with rather more teeth._
> 
> _Onward to your challenge…_
> 
> _What did I do to you? At the trial, I guess I did my best to be charmingly alienating. Bit of a dick move, if I’m honest, which I am. Since the trial, I wrote to you with who I want to be. I can’t say if who I am in these letters is the truth, but it’s who I wish I really was._
> 
> _Do I remember when I said I felt I’m sorry so much but I had no other words to describe it? Yes, I do remember that. Still feel it that way, too. What did I do to you, Hermione? I told you things you wanted to know that you didn’t think you could ask. Did I do something to you? Yes, I gave you little pieces of myself and trusted that you would not do to me what I had done to you so many times before. What did I do, Hermione, what did I do to you? I thought of you when you weren’t in front of me and I listened to you, not just on paper, but in person, and I made you see someone new who could exist in the space your worst enemy had previously been._
> 
> _Wait, are you just taunting me with my promise to answer every question of yours? I really think you might be, but I can stand to deal with some taunting from you, Hermione. Can anyone know the answer to that question but you? I’ll tell you a tiny secret about me: I can tell when someone is fucking with me, and you, madamoiselle, are definitely fucking with me. Will we ever know? Yes, obviously some day in the extremely distant future we’ll know the answer to whether you have been taunting me. I look forward to that day. Not with bated breath or anything, but… Will I really do what I said? Now you’re just being cruel, but yes, I will always make every reasonable attempt and most unreasonable attempts to do what I said I’d do for you because as I’ve previously said, you deserve to have all your questions answered. Will you have to wait three days to find out? Yes, although I see this morning that you are a bit much, yourself… two days in a row… I’m blushing, Hermione Granger…_
> 
> _ You wonder if it’s enough to put a question mark at the end of a sentence?! Well, howdy, I also wonder if that’s enough. How would I answer a question that’s definitely not a question? Well, howdy, I also wonder if that’s enough._
> 
> _How did I make you feel differently about me? Honestly, I’ve thought about this a lot since you left. How did I manage to make you feel like you would miss me? You, Hermione Granger would be missing me, Draco Malfoy? I don’t know, Hermione. I don’t feel like I deserve to have you thinking of me at all, let alone feeling like you want to be around me. You didn’t speak to me for half a week after I said that about Neville, and I thought I’d fucked up everything forever but I didn’t know why until you wrote to me. I thought if I could tell you the truth, answer all your questions, maybe make you laugh, you might just not hate me. And, now you say you don’t hate me, and I don’t know what to do with that. The Slytherin part of me wants to find a way to use your new-found neutrality to improve my lot in life, but then I remember that I fucking hate the Slytherin part of me and I deserve what I get now._
> 
> _I’m moving on now to your third letter. I’m sorry, your third and fourth letters… Have you considered getting a journal? Surely you don’t want to be pouring everything out to a Slytherin? No, it’s a very bad idea. When will you learn some self-preservation skills? Unlikely to happen now if it hasn’t happened yet, dear._
> 
> _What are you going to do? Take up gardening, eat your weight in carrots to turn into a Weasley, buy every book in Flourish & Blott’s, become an animagus, watch far too much telly, read every book that exists, definitely write several books-worth of letters to a hopeless git, and say you’re sorry and try to do better next conversation. I’m glad things went better later when you went for another cup of tea. I imagine you as an orange pekoe lover. I prefer darjeeling, myself, black with one sugar. And, what are you going to do until September? I’d imagine quite a lot of things from my list, probably something with books, at the very least._
> 
> _I’m sorry you’re having so many complicated feelings about the Weasley parents. Do you not know where your parents are? Please feel no obligation to answer that if you don’t want to. I don’t know if I can do anything to help, but you know that if you need anything, Mother and I would love to help._
> 
> _Something equivalent about me is something I’ve been pondering. I don’t know how to talk about myself. Slytherins generally and purebloods specifically are encouraged to never give away information. I think I always felt like pureblood ideals had a kind of violence to them, and that felt really exciting because pureblood ideals were also so proper and refined. The fact that there was this undercurrent of destroying anything that got in the way of tradition was intoxicating before I understood that the violence would happen in front of me, above my dining table, to someone I had met, and no one around me would do anything to stop the death of an innocent person. Or, that I, myself, would be given the task of killing someone I already knew. Or, that my father would end up being one of the worst men I had ever met. Again, I wish it had taken less to bring me around to common sense._
> 
> _Speaking of the man who I wish had made me a bastard, my father is up for trial at the beginning of next week. I’m being called as a witness and I don’t know what I’m going to say. He’s a monster in a different way than V--, no, fuck it, Voldemort was. My father apparently couldn’t even think for himself except in self-preservation. I tried everything I could to keep Mother safe, and all he could do was retreat further into himself as he watched her be threatened. He was so bloody easy to keep in line when it came down to it. He disgusts me deeply now, and it makes me feel sick to think of how I idolized him as a child, trying to do whatever he asked of me to be the good pureblood child for him. He always seemed so powerful and strong, and I drew strength from that, but then it was just gone and there was nothing but the poison he poured into my mind and soul. Now I have to find some way to be strong without all that other shite, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to be really strong. There are so many things I’ve failed at, I don’t know if I can actually do something really right._
> 
> _I’ve got to get this off so I don’t miss my 3-day window. You’re the best of us and I know you’ll find a way through all this._
> 
> _-Draco_

Hermione both loved and hated Ron’s letter to her.

> _Hermione,_
> 
> _How is it that even when you’re not here, you still make everyone write papers? Half the common room is people writing letters to you!_
> 
> _It’s weird being at school without you or Harry. Have you heard from him? I’m not sure he deserved to have you unload on him like that. He said you felt like we left you alone or something? I know I left, but Harry was always with you. I don’t understand what you mean by that. Do you think we don’t care about you? Can you tell me how to show you we care about you? I’m sure I’m doing it wrong._
> 
> _How are Mum and Dad and George? Have you seen any of my other brothers? I miss you, Hermione. I keep thinking you’ll walk into the common room and start yelling at me about my Transfiguration homework, but you never do._
> 
> _I think I fancy someone else. I know you and I are done, but it still feels like I owe you something, and it feels like I’m cheating on you by liking someone else. Did you fancy Neville? It seemed like you were just friends except when you or he would blush, you know? I hope you didn’t get hurt with him, Hermione. I’d kick his arse._
> 
> _I heard you are writing to Malfoy a lot. I don’t get it. He’s such a wanker, and a fucking Death Eater. How can you want to talk to him? He’s always writing. Is he writing to you? What could he have to say to you that’s that bloody long?_
> 
> _I’m pretty worried about you, Hermione. I hope you’re not being manipulated somehow. Bloody Slytherin wanker. Take care of yourself, Hermione._
> 
> _-Ron_

Hermione took a long walk into Otter St Catchpole and could not stop rolling her eyes after Ron’s letter. Of course she would have to reply to him. Maybe she would grace him with a Howler on the subject of minding his own business about who Hermione spent her time writing to.

Harry had yet to respond by the end of the week. Hermione also did not expect a reply from Ginny as she was notoriously bad at replying to any letter, and usually took at least a month to reply to anyone.

Draco’s second letter to her at the Burrow had arrived Saturday morning just after Molly and Arthur walked out to apparate to Hogwarts. Hermione had sent a few more letters to go to Hogwarts inhabitants with the Weasley parents.

> _Dear Hermione,_
> 
> _Why am I funny? Because you leave me room to say things that are funny. I’ve been told I’m not funny many times, but usually with a tone that means I am funny, just lack the timing._
> 
> _PG Tips sounds honestly godawful. Were you trying to entice me by describing them as “utterly adequate”?_
> 
> _I’m sorry about your parents. I’m sorry that you had to do that because we didn’t really give you another choice, and I’m sorry it worked so well. What the fuck was wrong with us? Oh, yeah, dark fucking magic… Merlin’s saggy y-fronts, I wish the DMLE had cracked down on everything when it was early days. It was this weird open secret that everyone was doing dark magic, and they didn’t do anything about it… I wonder if I could bring a civil suit against the Ministry for their head-in-the-sand attitude? Probably shouldn’t have mentioned that to you, as you’ll take it and run with it with your 12 N.E.W.T. O’s and simply ruin the Wizengamot. Now that I think of you yelling at the Wizengamot again, it puts a smile on my face, so maybe it’s for the best._
> 
> _Speaking of the Wizengamot, I know my mother and I would both appreciate your support at Father’s trial. I’m to be there at 9AM on July 6th, and they’ve requested I remain available for the duration and to submit my memories as part of the testimony. I’m afraid they’ll give me veritaserum so I can’t cover for him. Joke’s on them, I don’t want to cover for my sire as King of Arseholes. He’s the fucking worst, and if they let him go, I don’t know what I’ll do. I might get put away for what I do to him after what he did to my mother and me. I might be looking forward to seeing you more than I am looking forward to seeing my father get his comeuppance, though. Maybe I shouldn’t say that? Do you like to hear about me missing you? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, so you can tell me to fuck off and I will._
> 
> _Mother appreciated your letter, although I’m sure she also told you. I feel like I might have almost word for word what you said to her as her last letter was full of gushing about how brilliant and kind you are. It was rather shocking to feel like she was trying to sell me on your virtues, when I couldn’t stop complaining about how you beat me at everything for years._
> 
> _On to your questions:_
> 
> _Have I been to St Mungo’s about the headaches? Pomfrey does want me to go, but as her theory is that they are a side-effect of the Mark, my probation officer at the DMLE has to give the okay before I can seek help from St Mungo’s. He seems uninterested. As you’ve requested, I promise to take care of myself as best I can. There are less fair things in the world than me getting headaches, though._
> 
> _What was it like for my house to become like that? It was not the worst part of it. I mean that there was no safe place at all for 2 years. I had the worst people in the world making their home where I had grown up and had all of my best memories before Hogwarts. I feel like everything in my childhood that had not already been poisoned was poisoned by that monster’s presence in my home. That day, when they brought you all into the drawing room, I wished Father and I had been in a different room because I loved that room. It was one of our favorite rooms, and my psycho aunt ruined that. I can’t think of anything that happened in that room before without also thinking of what happened that day. That is where our Christmas tree always was, and where we would spend our time as a family. And, that day with you was just one room ruined. The dining room was ruined before I came to school for the year, and one of the upstairs parlors was ruined over Christmas, actually, several rooms upstairs were ruined over Christmas. I don’t mean that the actual structure was ruined, but the idea of that room as it existed before was completely and inexorably corrupted. Did that answer your question? I hope so, it was the hardest one so far, Hermione._
> 
> _Diving right into the tough ones today… Why did I take the Mark? The summer before sixth year, Voldemort was extremely focused on Father’s stupidity in both losing the journal and in getting himself arrested attacking children in the Ministry. He kept summoning me to tell him everything I knew about Harry, which was about as creepy as it seems for all the reasons you’d think. I think he could sense that I was wavering in my loyalty as I clearly did not want to be there, and didn’t respect him in the same venerating way as the rest of his gang did. I just wanted to get back to school without dying, and I took to staying away from the Manor as much as I could. I returned one night to Mother acting very strangely, almost in tears, but with an odd sort of mask to her face. She brought me in to see him alone, which had never happened before. He had her imperiused. He explained that he had a job for me that I would be excited to carry out, or he would destroy Mother’s mind entirely. Apparently she had spoken to him that day in a way that was not respectful enough, and he aimed to bring us both in line at the same time. His job for me was to kill Dumbledore and find a way to let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. At first, he made killing Dumbledore the condition I would have to meet before taking the Mark, then, from a round of Leglimency, he found that would not secure my loyalty, so he branded me first, with the assumption that would bring me to heel like the rest of them. I had to act happy and excited about the “choice”, and whenever he saw me not acting my part, he would make Mother put a knife to her wrist or throat. She did eventually break the imperius, but she was brittle afterward and extra doting. She never wanted me to be out of her sight._
> 
> _On a lighter note, what exactly do you have to do for me to let you take back the Fuck Yous? I mean, what are you offering? I don’t want to change this dynamic, but I think it would take a huge change in our dynamic for me to let you have those back… What do you have to say? I’m honestly trying to find a way to answer this that won’t get me hexed by each individual one of our mutual friends, but I’m drawing a blank. All I can say is that it’s less about what you say, and more about what you do._
> 
> _In other news, did you know about the Weasel and Luna? It’s very confusing to see them making unicorn eyes at each other. Neville seems oddly beside himself about it. Poor kid. Did you and he end on good terms? Did you and he end? I don’t know that I know for sure about the two of you. If you didn’t end, hopefully my flirting hasn’t made things more difficult with him. He’s a good bloke, and a good friend now I’ve given non-Slytherin friends a chance. Just ignore my flirting if you’re a taken woman. If you’re not a taken woman, don’t ignore my flirting unless you want to, and for fuck’s sake, please tell me to stop if it’s unwelcome so I don’t waste my best lines on you, Hermione._
> 
> _Hopefully I’ll see you Monday._
> 
> _Cheers,_
> 
> _Draco_

Hermione finished reading the letter and felt simply beside herself. There was so fucking much there! He was flirting with her?! And, everything about Voldemort in his home, and the bit with his mother and taking the Mark.

She liked him. She fucking _Fancied_ Draco Malfoy. Oh no.

She left the house immediately to go for a walk into town. George had been in the kitchen and she breezed through without so much as a hello. She was going to court. She needed a box of PG Tips. She needed to write to Narcissa!

Suddenly she realised she was out in the middle of nowhere in the country entirely unprotected, and anything could happen to her out here and no one would know until they found her body. Don’t think about it, just breathe and think about the fucking errand now. Get the PG Tips, go back to the Burrow. Get the PG Tips, go back to the Burrow.

She apparated back to the Burrow. George was still in the kitchen. “Hermione? Where’d you go?”

Say something. Say anything.

George was right in front of her, bending down to put his face in front of hers. “Hermione? Breathe, girl.” She was sitting down now with her head between her legs again. “There you go, just like that. Here’s some water.” There was a large cup of water with a crazy straw in the shape of the Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes logo, which made it exceptionally hard to drink from as it was so extremely long. It gave her something to focus on, though, which was not nothing. “Well, I guess it makes sense, as it’s Saturday. I fucking hate Saturdays since the Battle, too.”

Hermione was not crying this time, which she considered a small victory. She concentrated on sucking water through the most obnoxious straw in existence.

“Hermione, did you always have a weird ear here?” He touched her left earlobe, which felt wrong, and Hermione flinched away from his touch.

“I don’t think so. What’s wrong with it?”

“Did you apparate here? Where did you go?”

“I walked into town, but I don’t think I got very far before I came back.”

“Did you splinch yourself? The great Hermione Granger splinched herself?!”

She focused on drinking the water, hunched over in the kitchen of the Burrow.

“Hey, it’s okay. It happens to everyone when they apparate and they’re not in their right mind. I can’t do it again yet, myself. That, and cast a patronus. It’s not the end of the world. You’ll just have to learn to finally ride a broom.”

Hermione looked up at him finally. “I will never fucking learn to ride a broom, you dumb git.”

“There she is.” George gave her a grin. “I could have sworn I’d get you back in the land of the living with the jab about splinching yourself. What has you so far out of your body, you match me now?”

Hermione sighed and tipped her head all the way back, touching her ear where a piece of it was missing. “I’ve been writing to Draco Malfoy, and his letter this morning was amazing, and it turns out I fancy him.”

George chuckled. “Well, I’d probably have a panic attack if I realised I liked the Prince of the Gits, too.”

“He prefers the title King of Arseholes, actually.” She bit her lip and looked up at George nervously.

His face was suddenly serious. “Oh. Merlin. You’ve got it bad, Hermione. How can you, after everything he’s said and done all these years? I mean, I know he didn’t kill Dumbledore and it was all, you know, ‘very complicated Order business’ and all that, but he was truly a gigantic arsehole to you specifically, and all your friends generally for six years. What the hell are you thinking?”

Hermione jumped up from her chair and started pacing. “I know! But, it seems like he suffered more than a lot of people at Voldemort’s hand, oh don’t flinch now, he’s fucking dead, George… I mean, his mother was threatened! And, he didn’t kill Dumbledore when it came down to it! But, I don’t know if I can really trust him, because what if he’s lying to get to a place where he’s in better standing? I know what I represent to wizarding society, the fucking Golden Girl…” She chewed at her thumbnail and looked to see George’s reaction. “You think I’ve lost it like everyone else…”

George shook his head. “No, I think all of that makes sense as to why you’ve given him a chance to explain himself, but what made you fucking fancy that wanker?”

She plopped down onto the chair again and put her face in her hands. If she could explain it to a reasonable Weasley, maybe she had a snowball’s chance in a dragon’s mouth to get through to the unreasonable ones. “He says things that show me he sees me as just me. The words he uses are just perfect. He’s not stuffy, he’s just a person. He’s self-deprecating but also proud of who he is without being proud of where he comes from. He has a set of standards for himself that are based on what he’s seen of the world, and are not just about blindly following his father’s example. He saw people tortured and killed, and he was as horrified by all of it as we would have been. He said his childhood home was poisoned by that monster and its cohort, and I believe him, because that’s just how I feel about what I had to do to my parents.”

She could feel herself crying but barrelled forward. “He’s seen me as just me, and he’s one of the people since the Battle who even talks to me like I’m a person, instead of just an extension of Harry in some way. I had experiences separate from Harry’s in the war, and almost no one’s seen that at all. Harry had to do shit, but I had to do more shit that was harder, and I had to do it earlier than Harry. And, no one really saw any of it, because everyone was so worried about Harry. But, Draco cares about me, and he’s nice to me, and no one will see it, and no one will understand. They’ll all just think I’m mental and I’ll lose everything all over again, but even worse this time, because I won’t even have the pretense of people still needing me, I’ll just be shunned because I dared to fancy a Death Eater who didn’t even want to be a Death Eater.”

George slammed down the cup of water again. “Will you work on drinking the rest of this before you talk yourself into dehydration again?”

Hermione nodded and drank from that ridiculous straw.

“All of that is fair. It’s fucking stupid what they got you to do to save Harry’s life so he could save the world. He’s almost incidental to you on the chess board Dumbledore was running. You were the queen of that board, Hermione. You cleaned up everything and fixed everything and Dumbledore would’ve been fucked if it hadn’t been for you.” He sighed. “And Malfoy sees all of that? Are you a very good judge of people?”

Hermione shrugged. “I used to think so, but so much has changed about everyone this year, I don’t know if I am anymore.”

He thought for a moment. “As you deserve all good things, dear queen, I’m going to visit Hogwarts tomorrow and see what’s what with him. Will you be alright with no one home?”

“You don’t have to do that for me. You haven’t been back since the Battle! Don’t go on my account.”

George shook his head. “No, it’s time. If I don’t do it for a stupid reason, I’ll do it for a really good reason, and then it’ll be all significant and shite. Can’t be doing things for a good reason. That’s how they getcha.” He gave Hermione a knowing look.

Hermione grinned. “There he is…”

He scowled at her slightly. “Drink your fucking water, Granger. We’ve got to go find your earlobe.”


	14. Pilothouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione goes out for a drink with a friend. George tells Hermione about his day.

July 4-5, 1998

The earlobe was a quarter-mile down the road and Hermione had to go to St Mungo’s to have it reattached as it had gotten rather dirty in the road, and a bit scorched in the summer sun. By the time Molly and Arthur returned, though, Hermione’s ear had been unsplinched and she and George were playing a game of wizard’s chess. George and Hermione were both massively unqualified to play Ron, but were about evenly matched to each other, and only cared a little for the rules. They kept charming their pieces to do things other than what they should have done, and the game had devolved into who could do the sneakier charm.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Hermione, you have a visitor.”

Hermione looked up and saw no one, but her heart skipped a beat. Was Draco _here_?! “Where?!”

Molly smiled. “Out in the garden, dear.”

She tripped over herself running out the door and ran smack into someone with an entirely different build than Draco’s lithe height. “Harry! God, I’m so glad to see you!” She hugged him tightly and felt the tears coming. “I’m so sorry! Did you get my letter?”

Harry hugged her back. “I did, and I’m also sorry. I swear, I had no idea about any of that.” He pulled away. “Can we go talk like we don’t know everything about each other for the past year? I’ll buy you a butterbeer.”

She smiled. “Yeah, I think I’d like that. Can we floo to the Leaky? I had a bit of an apparation error earlier today and I don’t think I can handle it again today, even sidealong…”

“Oh, I cannot wait to hear about this…”

They went off to the Leaky Cauldron and got a booth in the corner where they could have their heart-to-heart in privacy. “So, Hermione, when exactly did you do the memory wipe of your parents?”

Hermione filled him in on the particulars.

“Why didn’t you think you could tell us about any of this? We would have understood.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, it was that day with Katie Bell and the cursed necklace. I’d planned to tell you, but then I was just sad when I got back, plus you’d not noticed I was gone. Ron was making eyes at Madam Rosmerta and you kept going on about Mundungus and Sirius’s goblets. Then everything went arse over teakettle and there just wasn’t any good time to say, oh by the way, I had to make my parents forget I existed, please support my difficult decision.”

“I just don’t understand why you never made us see you like you needed.”

Hermione laughed bitterly. “You say that like it’s so easy, Harry. Really think about what it was like back in Sixth Year. Draco was acting all weird and you were going off with Dumbledore all the time, learning what horcruxes were. Ron and I were fighting but we clearly fancied each other, and he was all over Lavender all the time. Think about all of that and think about how you would have reacted if I’d told you I needed you to think about what I needed and who I was and how I was going to have to be almost super-human in how I prepared for however long we were going to be fighting. Think about it, and think about everything you didn’t know back then, Harry.”

He frowned deeply. “Yeah, I guess there wasn’t time. I was really selfish, then?”

Hermione just nodded rapidly.

“What do you need now? I obviously can’t go back and be less of a prat.”

“I just need you to think about how I’m a different person, and how I did have to do totally different things from what you had to do to get through the war. You know, I was talking to Draco and Neville right after our fight, and they made me realise Dumbledore was setting me up to take care of you from almost the beginning of school? He needed me to feel like I was needed, and like it was my duty to be needed. It’s honestly disgusting how he groomed us both to be exactly what he needed to destroy Voldemort.”

Harry grimaced. “I’m not up to the point where I can hear that kind of thing about Dumbledore.”

Hermione kept herself from rolling her eyes. She reminded herself that even Harry asking what she needed was more than she had before. “Fine. I understand. Just please think about how much was heaped on me. I didn’t have a me to help me like you did.”

Understanding dawned on Harry’s face and his eyes went wide as he grabbed her hand. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, Hermione. I’m so sorry.”

She nodded. “It’s okay. I understand. No one taught you to think about things this way, and there’s a whole lot of reasons I’ve never said anything about this until now.” She smiled.

“Is that why you’ve been talking to Draco? Don’t look at me like that. He wouldn’t shut up about you at lunch today, then he fucked off to Hogsmeade this afternoon to get something for you. He thinks you’re going to be at his father’s trial Monday?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

Hermione blushed. “Yes, I will be at the trial to support Draco and Narcissa as a friend. And, I’ve been talking to Draco because…” She took a breath. “Yes, he writes to me about things that matter, and he seems to see just me. Even when I don’t know for sure what that means, I know he sees it, and I like being seen. It’s why I was seeing Neville for a bit, too. He saw me, too. Just me, not who I’d been to wizarding society, or how I’d been this backup to the savior of the world, just Hermione as me, a girl who’s been through a fucking lot since I got to Hogwarts since I was eleven. Not a best friend, or someone with all this big history mucking up everything, although I do have history with both of them.” She took a shaky breath. “Harry, Draco liked my hair just when I needed a boy to like my hair. And he’s nice to me and answers all of my questions honestly and he’s funny and sweet, and it feels like exactly what I really needed, just someone who pays attention to me as I am, and who knows what I’ve been through and doesn’t expect anything from me.”

Harry looked shocked and a little bit appalled. “You fancy Draco Malfoy.”

Hermione covered her face with her hands and nodded. She could feel her face very hot under her hands.

He started laughing then. He laughed very hard and very long. He laughed so long and so hard that Hermione peeked at him from behind her hands and he was almost under the table.

“Oy, you prat, it’s not fucking funny. This is my life.”

Harry straightened up and wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry, you’re right. Can I be the one to tell Ron?”

Hermione kicked him under the table. “No! Why would you tell Ron?! He doesn’t need to know!” She frowned into her second empty butterbeer glass. She had become even more of a lightweight on all that Calming Draught.

Harry coughed. “Well, he’ll have to know something sometime.”

Hermione had a brilliant idea. “I know! We’ll get George to tell him! He can’t possibly get upset at George for this!”

They were eventually told that even saviors could be cut off in the Leaky Cauldron and flooed back to the Burrow where Harry slept in Ron’s bed that night.

In the morning, the idea to have George tell Ron was not as good as it had seemed the night before, but George was game anyway.

“So, the idea is he won’t yell at me about this, so he’ll actually respond like a normal person?” George was drinking his coffee from World’s Best Dumbledore again.

Hermione nodded, having a bit of a frog in her throat from some singing? She thought it must have been singing, but she could not remember what they had been singing, just a sort of swaying with Harry as they were pushed into the floo.

“And, why won’t he just go hex Malfoy’s bollocks off?”

Molly came into the kitchen and handed out hangover potions. “George!”

“Sorry, Mum. Why won’t he just go hex Malfoy’s testicles off?”

Hermione took her potion as Harry made retching noises. Molly sat at the table. “Who is going to be doing something to Draco?”

The three conspirators froze then and stared between each other. Hermione felt her head get a little cooler as the potion took effect. “Er, it uh,” she grasped for anything she could say that would be both truthful and not paint Ron as unhinged, “we, uh, oh bollocks…”

Molly sipped her tea and looked down her nose at Hermione. “If you can’t tell me, should you really be doing it?”

George looked a bit sheepish. “Fair play there, Mum.”

Hermione remembered she was going to send a quick reply to Draco about the trial. And, she had not actually picked up any PG Tips. “I need to let Draco know I WILL be at his father’s trial tomorrow. Don’t everyone disappear without someone taking my note! I’ll be right back.”

She bounded up the stairs two at a time, accio-ing a piece of parchment as she entered the room.

> _Dear Draco,  
>  _ _If you get this before you talk to George, I’m sorry in advance. If you get this after you talk to George, I’m sorry. Hopefully everything didn’t end in violence…_  
>  _I will see you tomorrow morning in London for the trial. I’m looking forward to seeing you, Draco. Be sure to get some sleep tonight. You’re not allowed to fall asleep as you testify.  
>  _ _Your friend,  
>  _ _Hermione_

She folded the letter quickly and shoved it into an envelope that she stuck closed gently as she ran back down the stairs.

Harry was the only one left in the kitchen, still nursing his hangover with the end of about half a pig of bacon and coffee. He took the letter when proffered and shoved it into his pocket. “You’re sure you like the tosser, Hermione?”

Hermione sank into her chair again, leaning her elbow on the table to cradle her head. She sighed and thought about how she felt when she got his letters, and how she felt excited and expectant to send her letters off to him. “I’m sure. I do really like him.”

Harry shook his head. “Well, I’m not sure I’ll ever understand, but I do think he’s changed. He’s not the worst bloke in the world anymore.”

She rolled her eyes. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment to my good taste?”

He raised his cup in a cheers-to-that and drained it. “I’m off now.” He sent his dirty dishes to the sink where Molly had set an auto-cleaning charm before she left.

“See you soon, Harry. And, don’t forget to give that letter to Draco!”

Hermione spent the remainder of the day napping and re-organising her beaded bag again. She managed to actually get into town and bought the smallest box of PG Tips she could find plus some muggle candy. It always astounded her that wizards had not found a way to make wine gums as some of their strangest work had been on every-flavor beans.

After she reheated some leftovers for dinner and sat eating at the table, the floo burst into green flames that signaled someone’s arrival. Molly and Arthur stepped out, followed shortly by George. She smiled at them all. “Hullo! How was your day?”

Molly came and kissed her on the cheek. “It was very productive, dear. We were finally able to repair the Slytherin dorms. It was definitely the most strangely attended weekend day yet. I’m just going to go freshen up, and the boys can tell you all about it.”

George began making several cups of tea as Arthur sat at the table to tell Hermione everything. “I’ve never seen so many pureblood society ladies in sensible work clothes in my life. Oh, Narcissa Malfoy sends her regards and is looking forward to seeing you at Lucius’s trial tomorrow.” He accepted the I’d Rather Be Flying mug from George. “It was an impressive bit of spellwork to keep the shield charms active pushing out the lake while the structure of those windows was bolstered. Several people had to swim outside the window and eat gillyweed to keep everything water-tight. Really really impressive stuff, Hermione.”

George stood behind his father making a face of wide-eyed exhaustion. “Impressive, was it, Dad?”

Arthur looked seriously up at him. “Yes, really impressive. You were there!” He got up from the table. “I’m a mite tuckered out. I’ll see you in the morning, Hermione. We’ll floo to the Ministry together again.” He smiled and waved as he took his tea away up the stairs.

Hermione stabbed a piece of chicken and looked up at George. “So, big brother? Did you give him the shovel talk?”

George sat down across from her with his tea and simply sipped it for a moment, surveying her as she slowly ate her chicken and mashed potatoes. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t have started with threatening him. I probably would have said something about you to see how he reacted.”

She held up her hand. “I’m going to stop you right there. Please, just tell me what actually happened. Your framing device is ridiculous.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. At lunch I mentioned you’d had another panic attack yesterday and he almost jumped into my lap to ask all about it and if you were alright.”

Hermione put her hands over her mouth. “You didn’t tell him it was because of his letter, did you?!”

George frowned. “Uh, I don’t think so? I don’t remember exactly what I told him about that. Sorry, Hermione.”

“Noooo!” She tipped her head back and wailed.

“No! It’s a good thing! I don’t think he could fake being concerned like that. I think he’s really changed and I’m on your side!”

“Really?” She stared at him warily. “What else did he say?”

George shrugged and furrowed his brow in thought. “Uh, it was really just about you. He was glad you’ve been relaxing while you’ve been here. His mother arrived midway through lunch and it seemed they hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, so he fucked off to talk to her.”

“That makes sense.” She could feel herself blushing a little. “Uh, did he look healthy? He said he’s been having headaches from the Dark Mark and I just hope he’s okay.”

He shrugged again. “Uh, he looked tired? But, everyone I saw today looked either tired or glamored to look rested.” He got up from the table with World’s Best Dumbledore. “I can’t talk about feelings anymore tonight, Hermione. Have a good night.”

With that, Hermione was alone in the kitchen again.


	15. Bowsprit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione attends court and eats pizza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad I got to post THIS CHAPTER on my birthday!
> 
> Enjoy, my loves!

July 6, 1998

Hermione arrived at the Ministry early with Arthur after knocking herself out with Dreamless Sleep. She wore her business robes and had experimented with a little bit of eyeshadow and lip gloss.

Narcissa Malfoy stood conspicuously in the lobby beneath the Magical Unity fountain. Hermione waved and made her way over to the still-imposing blonde woman. “Good morning, Narcissa! Are you alright? I heard you were at Hogwarts yesterday for work on the Slytherin dormitory.”

Narcissa kissed Hermione’s cheek in greeting, making Hermione feel extremely grown-up. Good morning, my dear. Yes, I’m well. I’m very much looking forward to having my say in court about my husband. The work on the Slytherin dorm went very well. I’m glad they’ll finally be replacing all of the terrible furniture from that common room. Professor Spreen had just awful taste and I never understood why Severus or Horace never replaced that ugly furniture!” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’ve suspected since the battle that the dormitory was flooded on purpose by a Slytherin to force a makeover…” She gave Hermione a conspiratorial nod.

Hermione laughed a little. “I see where Draco gets his sense of humor.” She bit her lip, feeling like she had just said too much. 

Narcissa raised an eyebrow and a small smile played across her mouth. “Well, it’s certainly not from Lucius.” She glanced past Hermione. “Draco’s arrived. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of saying anything, dear.”

Hermione stepped out of the way, not sure where to look as Narcissa moved forward to hug and kiss Draco politely. “Draco, dearest, you look well. Did you manage to sleep?”

Draco pushed his hair aside. “Hello, Mother, no, I wasn’t allowed any potions as usual, so I tossed and turned all night again. This is a glamour.” He turned to Hermione. “Good morning, Hermione.” His face did look better-rested than she remembered since his first day at the castle. He was looking at her now like she was water and he was in a desert. “It’s so good to see you…”

“Hi, Draco.” Hermione launched herself gently into his arms and held him around the waist. He felt so solid, like a fixed point in her world. Getting to touch him finally was grounding her in a way she had not known she needed. He held her firmly but gently and let go as soon as she pulled away. “I missed you…”

“Merlin’s beard, I missed you, too, Hermione.” He was staring at her face like he was trying to memorise it.

Narcissa cleared her throat, startling them both. “It’s time to go downstairs, my dears.”

They all entered a lift with a wizard who got off on the Department of Mysteries floor. Hermione found herself standing very close to Draco and used a little courage to squeeze his hand just before they all exited the lift into the black marble hallway.

Harry was there, chatting with the same security Auror who always stood sentry at the chamber doors. Hermione was confused. “Harry? I didn’t know you were testifying today. You didn’t say anything this weekend.”

Harry shrugged. “Yes, well, they called me. I expect they’ll call me for anyone I was ever in the same room with.”

They all took seats on the benches. Hermione sat next to Draco and she almost could not stop herself from touching his arm. “Draco, do you want me to stay out here with you if they call your mother or Harry first? I’m here for you first and foremost, whatever you want.” She smiled and looked up at him.

He seemed to swallow a groan and took a deep breath, keeping his voice low and quiet. “No, I actually would like your opinion at the end on whatever goes on that I won’t be able to see. Will you go in and watch everything? We’ll be on different sides of the judicial secrecy spells until I finish testifying, but afterward, I want to know what you think of all of it.” He sighed. “It’s a lot to ask, and you should feel free to say no, but I would owe you more than I can say if you’d be my eyes and ears until I can be those for myself.” His face was so earnest and open.

She did not have to think about her answer at all. “Of course. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.” She squeezed his hand again and smiled before getting up to see the security Auror.

Of course, she submitted her wand, but this time, she signed her name as an observer of the proceedings before she was let into the chamber. She was far from the only observer today. As Lucius’s case did not justify a closed trial, there were about three dozen observers like Hermione in the gallery. Rita Skeeter sat front row center, scribbling in a reporter’s notebook without the use of a Quick-Quotes Quill. She looked up when Hermione entered and began scribbling so furiously she broke her quill and had to repair it with a pen-knife before she could continue.

As Hermione took her seat in the back row, the Wizengamot entered and Kingsley called them to order. Lucius Malfoy appeared in the cage, looking positively haggard. Hermione heard several people gasp at the lopsided haircut, split lip, and seemingly fresh bruise arcing from above his right eye in a cursive E around his eye, down to his sharp cheek-bone and then swooping back to his jaw. How had this been deemed a self-inflicted wound?

“Wizengamot, the accused, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, has been accused of three counts of murder, four counts of kidnapping, seven counts of attempted murder, sixteen counts of Unforgivable Curses, two counts of coercing a minor to Dark Magic use, one count of escaping Azkaban, and one count of aiding and abetting Tom Riddle, aka Voldemort. The accused will be using his right to testify in his defense at the end of all other testimony.” The entire Wizengamot cast a spell together from an unseen cue and Hermione felt a sort of heaviness settle in her throat for a moment. “These proceedings are hereby sealed until the verdict is read. Mrs Narcissa Black-Malfoy is called to the witness stand.”

Had Narcissa always gone by Black-Malfoy? How strange. Hermione could not remember Narcissa going by anything but Malfoy.

The woman with the enigmatic name entered the courtroom with a mask of serenity, indifference, and strength on her perfect face. After being sworn in, she was asked to describe various events in detail. And, she went into great detail. She seemed to be going for her husband’s throat with the things she stated in a calm tone. He had done nothing as people were murdered in their home by not just Voldemort, but his followers as well. He tried to keep her and Draco in line with threats to humiliate her and disown him. He had stood by as she and Draco had been subject to the Cruciatus Curse by Voldemort himself for the incident with the Golden Trio at the Manor. He had taught Draco the Unforgivable curses with the intent he should use them against Lucius’s enemies, even before Voldemort’s return.

Hermione was aghast, and found herself missing things as she could think of only how Draco must have felt. Why had he said nothing of the Cruciatus, or having to learn Unforgivables? Her eyes returned over and over to Lucius Malfoy’s face as he shook his head and whimpered as Narcissa revealed the type of man he was. Narcissa named every single name and told every secret her husband had trusted her to keep. She was the portrait of Done With Him.

The judges asked many questions out of seeming astonishment, but she answered each one, however rhetorical. Narcissa repeated herself over and over as Lucius seemed to shrink in the cage.

At eleven thirty, Kingsley interrupted the questioning to call for the lunch recess. They would reconvene at one o’clock sharp. Narcissa and Hermione met the men in the hallway and they crammed into a lift with several other observers to return to the lobby. Hermione was flush against Draco’s front and her fingers kept touching his, just out of sight of any prying eyes. She thought she might scream from the happiness of just touching him.

Narcissa gathered the foursome to the side of the lobby. “I’ve made a reservation at a lovely French restaurant in this neighborhood for the four of us.” She smiled. “It’s very difficult to get me to take a no.”

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other and nodded, because how could they turn down the invitation?

As they took the short walk to the restaurant, Harry nudged Hermione’s arm. “Hot in there?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, why?”

“Oh, you’re just about as red as a tomato is all…” He smirked and nodded at the Malfoys walking in front of them. “I thought Draco was going to hug me when I gave him that letter yesterday.”

Hermione’s heart pounded. She thought she knew what all of that meant, but how could she be sure? She had to be sure…

Narcissa looked back at the two of them. “Hermione, dear, let’s get you a glass of wine. Everything has been very stressful this morning, wouldn’t you agree?”

She could only nod vaguely. What if it was real? What was she going to do? 

She had the sudden memory of being on the seventh floor with Ginny and Luna and Luna being so sure of fate. What if it was not real? She still had no idea if she could meet her soulmate. What if she and Draco liked each other but their soulmates were other people? 

Fancying someone was positively insufferable and it only got worse as one learned more about how the other person maybe also felt.

They were ushered back to a private corner of the restaurant. Draco held Hermione’s chair for her to sit before sitting next to her. Narcissa smiled at them all and began to talk about the mid-summer harvest she had been preserving from the Manor greenhouses the previous week. At the closest thing to a lull in conversation after they all ordered, Hermione asked what she hoped was an answerable question under the judicial spells.

“Narcissa, have you always gone by Black-Malfoy?”

Draco’s eyes shot up and he stared at his mother as she replied. “Ah, you caught that, did you? I’ve gone through the first step to divorcing Lucius, and with that step, my maiden name has been reinstated alongside my married name. I’ll lose my married name when the divorce is finalized.” She smiled and took Draco’s hand. “At that point, Draco will also have the option to become a Black.”

Draco’s eyes widened before his mask slipped back into place and he scoffed. “I thought Father made it quite clear that any child of his would never be able to become a Black, even if you found a way to divorce. I’ve read your marriage contract. I know all of Grandfather and Grandmother’s stipulations and the contractual culs-de-sac that looked like loopholes. How your parents ever considered it favorable to sign that thing is beyond me.”

Narcissa smiled with a sparkle in her eye and patted his hand. “Don’t worry, my dragon. There won’t be a scrap of that document big enough for your father to wipe his arse with when I’m done with it.”

The collected teenagers all stared at her, mouths agape. Hermione collected herself and took a large sip from her wine glass. She felt another question bubbling up from beneath the stack of polite ones in her mind and she simply _had_ to ask it, however dangerous in the present company. “Are you and Lucius not soulmates? I thought soulmates couldn’t divorce?”

Narcissa raised an eyebrow, eyes shifting briefly to Draco before she focused on Hermione. “Lucius and I were soulmates, but it seems that bond is not always lifelong.” Her mouth quirked into a frown briefly before she continued. “I assume you know the charm for revealing the string?”

Hermione stared at the woman across the table, suddenly uneasy. “Yes. It was the only useful thing I got out of Divination.”

Narcissa nodded. “Cast it on me now.”

Hermione did so under the table, out of sight of the muggle waiter. Narcissa held up her wrists and Hermione could see that Narcissa’s paradoxical string led past her toward the door of the restaurant. She felt unexpectedly very upset at this revelation and ended the spell. “But, how?”

Narcissa shook her head. “I’ll never know for sure, but Unforgivables are named as such for a reason.” She turned and put her hand on Draco’s face as he looked how Hermione felt. “I’d already made my peace with it before I learned the bond was severed, my love.”

Harry suddenly coughed and began drinking noisily from his water glass. He stared at Hermione in confusion until their meals arrived a moment later.

Lunch continued with no further incredible revelations as Draco and Harry discussed the upcoming Quidditch season and Narcissa inserted one or two perfectly-phrased truths about the right strategies for the teams discussed. Hermione could feel herself trying not to stare at Draco. Every time he nearly caught her, she looked away, and every time she glanced at him, he looked away.

When they finished, the party whisked themselves back to the Ministry. They became separated at the lifts with Harry and Narcissa going down in a packed lift while Hermione and Draco waited for the next one. As soon as the doors closed on Harry and Narcissa, Draco looked around and grabbed Hermione’s hand, squeezing it rather hard.

The next lift arrived and Draco pulled them in before anyone else, viciously stabbing the Door Close button. The next wizards tried to get through the doors, but Draco snarled, “Take the next one!” before they could slip through.

So, they were alone in the lift, on purpose, because Draco got them one to themselves. Hermione could feel her breath gone shallow. He pulled her into his chest and kissed the top of her head. She clutched him around the waist and put her ear to his chest, hearing that his heart was beating as fast as hers. He kept kissing the top of her head and eventually murmured into her hair.

“Come to dinner with me. They’re letting me stay in London until the trial is over, and I’m not under house arrest. I just need to see you, please...” His voice was strained.

She nodded into his chest. “Yes, of course. Of course, Draco.”

He held her still closer somehow. “Hermione.” He took a deep sighing breath. “Hermione, I have to tell you before I testify this afternoon and say the worst things about myself… It’s, I’m, I care for you deeply, Hermione. I just need you to know that… And, I’m different and it’s because of you. And, I need you, Hermione. Please don’t go back to hating me. Please, please, please, don’t go back to hating me. I’m so sorry for everything.”

She cupped his face in her hands. tears staining his cheeks. “I won’t, Draco. I need you, too. I know what kind of person you are now. I know you’re a good man, and I know you did terrible things before, so anything you say in court will change nothing. It’ll just remind me how far you’ve come from who you used to be.” She pulled his head down to rest their foreheads together. 

They could not kiss right _now_ , could they?

No, they could not kiss right now, as the doors opened to that black marble hallway. They leapt apart at the ding of their floor and stepped out to Harry and Narcissa waiting. As she reentered the courtroom, she spared a backward glance at Draco. He looked so sad that she almost turned back to embrace him again.

Narcissa’s testimony for the beginning of the afternoon was focused entirely on how she had to rein in Lucius during the Battle of Hogwarts as neither of them had wands and he tried repeatedly to break away from her to return to Voldemort’s side for the monster’s protection. Hermione was surprised as she truly thought they were at least united in their concern for Draco during the battle, but she had of course not been watching them closely.

As the afternoon progressed, Lucius continued to shake his head and whimper as Narcissa described him as a traitor to his family. She came back to the idea over and over that he had driven Draco to be more involved with the Dark Arts, even after he was sent to Azkaban for the Ministry break-in.

By three o’clock, the Wizengamot had exhausted Narcissa of her testimony and dismissed her to call Harry to the stand. It made some sense as Draco would have as much testimony as Narcissa and they were running out of time for the day. The older woman came to sit next to Hermione in the gallery, squeezing her hand briefly.

Harry described the day at the Manor, focusing on how thirsty Lucius had been for any way to redeem himself to Voldemort. He described how threats and fear of Bellatrix had been the only thing between Harry and Lucius calling Voldemort through the Dark Mark. The mention of the Mark made Hermione remember that Draco’s Mark was seeping dark magic into his blood, making him sick. Was the same thing happening to his father? She stared at Lucius’s arms, trying to see if his Mark was visible. Of course he was in robes that covered his forearms.

Harry finished his testimony in under an hour and joined them in the gallery. The witness for the final hour of the day was a Death Eater who was blinked into the witness box in manacles, testified regarding the kidnapping of Luna Lovegood and Garrick Ollivander, then blinked back out as soon as his testimony was complete.

As court let out, Rita Skeeter managed to corner both Harry and Narcissa to ask questions now they were all on the same side of the judicial silence spells. Hermione rejoined Draco and he pulled the same move to get them into their own lift despite the crowd at the elevators. They stood a little apart until the doors closed, then closed the gap, putting their heads together as they had been in the lift after lunch. 

Could they kiss? As Hermione thought it, she tilted her head back experimentally. His lips were right fucking _there…_

She closed this gap between them, too, kissing him softly. He responded by blindly hitting the button panel on the lift to stop the movement, then putting his hands on either side of her face and snogging the everloving fuck out of her.

His lips felt like they were made of electricity, and she clutched the robes on his back to keep from physically falling from the shock. Their lips moved together like they had been molded to match perfectly. His tongue touched her lips and she opened to let him in, running her tongue against his gently before wrestling with him for dominance. His lips, oh, Morgana, his lips felt beautiful. 

She moaned and pressed her body against his. He backed her into the wall of the lift, cradling her head and pulling their pelvises together. 

Oh, he wanted her. 

She felt a twinge below her navel. Oh, god, she wanted him.

Oh, but not in a lift in the Ministry… She pulled away.

“Draco, I want this, but, uh, not here?”

“Morgana’s pants, no! Of course not!” Draco looked offended somehow.

“I just couldn’t have not kissed you any longer, that’s all. I’m sorry.”

His eyes were serious. “Yes, I felt the same, love.”

Hermione’s eyes fluttered closed. “Mm, I like hearing you call me that.” She got a little serious again. “But, then why did you get offended just then?”

His mouth quirked into a wicked smile and he lowered his voice to gravel. “I pride myself on my self-control and I wouldn’t want you to think I’d give back your fuck yous where there was even a chance of getting interrupted before you get them _all_ back…” His eyebrow twitched up.

Hermione’s eyes went wide as saucers and she stared at Draco’s mouth. Her knickers were absolutely ruined beneath her sensible business robes.

“What’s wrong? Was that too much?” He looked panicked for a moment before she kissed him again.

“No, I just, I love your words. I just want to fuck your words…” She buried her head in his chest. “That’s a fucking mental thing to say, though!”

Draco laughed. “It’s not mental.” He whispered. “I want to fuck your words, too, in addition to other things.”

She shoved him lightly in the ribs. “Where are we going to dinner? I want to have plenty of time to get those fuck yous back…”

“There’s a little pizza place near Mother’s house.”

“Draco Malfoy eats pizza? Amazing.”

Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’m pureblood, not dead.” He reached over to let the lift continue its journey to the lobby.

They picked up a few lift riders who gave them odd looks. Draco just grinned at everyone like the Cheshire Cat. They were finally deposited in the lobby where Narcissa gave them both a raised eyebrow before greeting them. 

“Draco, darling, there must have been something wrong with that lift. You left before us and arrived after us.”

He coughed to cover what sounded like a giggle. “Uh, yes, we were stopped for a bit for some reason.”

Hermione pressed her lips together to keep from losing her composure entirely.

“Well, Hermione, can I entice you to come to dinner with us tonight? I understand you might be tired from court.”

Hermione’s voice came out very high. “Uh! Draco’s already asked me to dinner and, er, it was, uh, that is…”

Narcissa nodded and smiled knowingly. “I understand, say no more. I’ll go ahead and open the wards on the house for Hermione, then, shall I?”

Draco kissed his mother’s cheek. “Thank you, Mother. We’ll be through the floo in a minute.”

Narcissa threw her powder into the flames and called out Black House. A minute later, Hermione did the same, followed by Draco.

The floo entry hall for Black House was done in a beautiful cream color with rose and gold accents in the moulding. There was an automatic soot-repelling charm built into the fireplace so that when Hermione did her automatic swipe to clean herself after flooing, there was nothing there. She did catch a glimpse of herself and Draco in a large mirror on the wall to her right and suddenly understood the looks they had gotten in the lift and from Narcissa.

She pulled out her wand to cast _Parere Capillum_ on herself to make her hair go in just one direction. Draco watched her from behind with a tiny smirk.

When she finished, she rounded on him with her wand still drawn. “What?”

He put his hands up in surrender. “I just liked watching you do your hair. I wish we could look like we just snogged in a lift forever.”

She put her wand away. “Yes, but those two things are a paradox, aren’t they?”

He stepped into her space. “Hmm, we’ll have to explore some more paradoxes and see how paradoxical they really are.” He kissed her again and she felt like her entire body caught on fire.

“You two are too much,” Narcissa called from up a flight of stairs Hermione had not noticed. She made her way down the stairs in a much more casual robe than the ones she had worn to court. “If you’re going out into muggle London, don’t forget to change your clothes. I’m going to visit Andromeda for the evening. I should be back around ten.” She winked at them and pulled a shawl around her shoulders. “Have fun, my dears.” She flooed away with a wave.

Hermione grinned and stared up at Draco. “Are you hungry at all, Draco?” She had not intended it to sound so teasing.

He rested his head against hers again. “I’m not hungry yet.” He made a grunt of frustration. “But, I don’t think we can move directly to that exchange of fuck yous until after we talk in person about some of this stuff.” He looked away. “As much as I’ve loved our correspondence, I just can’t trust that we’re really on the same page about this without talking about it first. If I fuck this up somehow, there’s just no chance I could ever forgive myself.”

Hermione nodded and leaned up to kiss his throat near his adam’s apple. “I think I understand. I want us to both be totally ready and not have anything else we need to know before this happens. God, I want this to happen so badly, though…”

Draco kissed her again, pulling her tight against him. “Every time you say that, it makes it harder… to control myself, Hermione…”

She smiled against his lips. “Sorry?”

He shook his head, brushing his nose against hers. “Do you have a change of clothes? We have a closet of muggle clothes that are auto-fit for guests to go out in, if you don’t have your own clothes.”

Hermione smiled. “I almost always have muggle clothes on under whatever I’m wearing.” She took off her business robes to reveal a pencil skirt with a polka dot blouse. “I never know when I’m going to want to just disappear into the muggle world.”

Draco disappeared for a few minutes and came back in a short-sleeved gray button-down and dark jeans. “Are we okay for going to get a pizza?”

Hermione tilted her head at him. “What do you mean?”

“We’re not under- or over-dressed? I can barely tell how fancy muggle clothes are. I just know I’m not allowed to go to business meetings in anything less than a suit and tie.” He looked flustered at his explanation.

She laughed. “I understand. This is fine to get pizza, Draco. You’re a little more casual than I am, but not noticeably.”

They went out the front door and walked down the road to the corner. Hermione immediately knew where they were. This was the same small highstreet that connected to Grimmauld Place. “Do you know how close you live to Harry?”

Draco had taken her hand as they walked. “No, I don’t. Mother said she forgot where the old Black place was some time after her cousin broke out of Azkaban. Of course I’d never been there myself, but she said it was in this neighborhood. Why? Do you recognise this area?”

Hermione smiled to herself. “Just a bit.” She pointed to a very familiar store-front. “Is that the pizza place?”

It was, and they went inside. The man behind the counter smiled widely and came out to kiss Hermione on both cheeks. “Ah! Hermoony! My love! It’s been so long! Where have you been my darling? I only see Harry for about two months lately?” He turned to Draco. “This is my favorite girl, you take care of her.”

Draco had a look of open confusion on his face that made Hermione wish for a camera. “Don’t worry, sir, I will.”

The enthusiastic man produced two pizzas and slid them onto the counter. “Here you go, pretty lady. If I’d known you were back, I’d put extra oregano for you.”

Hermione slipped her hand into Draco’s again. “Joseph, my friend Draco actually brought me from his house. I wasn’t sure it was the same high street until I saw your sign.”

“Oh, Hermoony, I thought you were here for Harry! It was no bad breakup, was it?”

She shook her head “No, you know Harry and I are just friends!”

The bell over the door jingled to announce the arrival of The Boy Who Lived And Lived And Lived himself in baggy jeans and a ragged hoodie. “Hermione!? And Draco? You weren’t hoping to come over tonight, were you?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, Draco and his mother live _very_ close to you, Harry. Possibly across your back garden from you, if I’m not entirely turned around.”

Draco took the opportunity to order their previously agreed upon pizza, half plain half olives and sneakily paid for Harry’s pizzas as well. Joseph would not stop winking at him to punctuate everything. Draco’s face throughout the exchange seemed to baldly state ‘Muggles are so weird’.

When Hermione and Harry broke out a napkin and used a pen to sketch a map of the area, she noticed that Draco was rubbing his eyes. “Draco, are you alright? Is it one of your headaches?”

He shook his head. “No, I just can’t seem to focus on your paper there.”

Hermione nodded. “Harry, if I do this, you can’t focus either, right?” She made another line and a circle and sure enough, Harry was squinting and tilting his head.

“Draco, your mother’s house is unplottable?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, Harry’s house in Grimmauld Place is also unplottable, and it’s under Fidelius. It must be both of those for you.”

“Actually, Black House is also under a modified Fidelius. I’m not completely clear on the particulars, but if we don’t want someone to know where it is, Mother can do something to keep it secret.”

Harry had gotten tired of staring at an incomprehensible napkin. “I’m going home. Have a good night, you two.” He went to pay Joseph only to find his money was no good. “Thanks for the pizza, Malfoy.”

Draco stiffened for a split-second. “See you tomorrow?”

The new couple sat in silence, just enjoying the feeling of being fucking normal for a minute while they waited for their pizza. Joseph sent them off with some powdered sugar-covered cookies in addition to their extra-oregano pizza.

As they walked back to Black House, eating the cookies on the way, Draco suddenly blurted out, “Are you still with Neville?”

Hermione stopped. “Of course fucking not, Draco. I wouldn’t do that to you! Or Neville! Honestly, have you thought that this whole time?”

“I mean, yes, a bit? You did get mad at me for what I said to you about him, and it seemed like you were together kind of? Were you together?”

She started walking again, knowing it was a fair question, but really wishing they could have just ignored everything else for one night before she explained everything. “Only as friends who had sex for a few weeks. It ended when I left Hogwarts.”

“Good.”

She shot him a dirty look. “Why? Jealous?” She did not like this version of herself.

Draco looked haughty as he unlocked the door and held it for her. “Not jealous, not exactly. Obviously I don’t have any say over who you shag. Plus, Neville was with you before I came back to school and he’s a great guy. And probably you weren’t together because he madly fancies Luna.” Then his voice took on an almost feral quality. “But also, I want you, Hermione, and I want you to want me.”

He locked the door with his wand and pushed the pizza box onto a side table. He pulled Hermione toward him and held her at the waist. “I don’t care if you want other people, too, but only if I know you want me, too. And, it took so long to know you want me, too.” He dipped his head to kiss her and her body felt electrified again.

Her hands dipped below his untucked shirt to run her hands along his stomach and around his back. “When did you know I want you?”

He smiled. “For sure, in the elevator after lunch. Tentatively, when Harry very intensely came up to me to hand me your letter yesterday morning and told me if I ever hurt you, he’d find a way to kill me that made it seem like Death Eater on Death Eater violence, then George Weasley not-so-casually talked about how you had a panic attack the morning before, just after you got my last letter and stared me down to see my reaction to the news. Why, when did you know I want you?”

She tucked her head against his chest again, holding him close. “I think I thought it might be possible you wanted me from the letter I got Saturday morning that gave me the panic attack. But, I only knew for sure in the elevator when we kissed.”

He laughed. “That’s amazing. I thought I was so blatant.”

She shrugged. “Neville says I’m really oblivious. I think he knew we liked each other before we did.”

He shook his head very hard. “No, no, I’ve known I liked you since you punched me in the face over the hippogriff. I doubt Neville was watching me to see I got an erection.”

Hermione snorted. “I only figured out I fancy you on Saturday morning from how I felt after your letter. The panic attack solidified it, if I’m honest.”

Draco frowned. “Yes, about that… why did my letter set it off, exactly? I don’t remember saying anything aggravating?”

She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat and took a deep breath. “Well, you opened up in a way that you’d only done a little bit before, and I felt like I really knew you, so it made me feel like I was seeing you inside in a way I didn’t think anyone else ever had.” She felt the heat in her cheeks. “And, I liked that person, I really really liked him. But, like you’ve said before, that person takes up the same space as someone who has been really truly completely awful to me, and not only to me, but most of my friends directly or indirectly. It was just too much to process all at once and I ran out of the house to go buy tea and ended up splinching my earlobe off.” He looked at her ears in alarm. “No, we found it, and they reattached it at St Mungo’s. But, I’m really good at not seeing things until I can’t not see them, and then everything comes crashing in all at once.” She stared at the pocket of his shirt, seeing the stitching of it was definitely muggle. “Actually, that’s exactly why each of my panic attacks happened. I’ve just had to push out everything outside what needed to be done that I got too good at it, I guess.” She looked up at his face finally.

Draco kissed her again and again, all over her face. “You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met, Hermione. You just figured all of that out about _yourself_. I don’t feel like I know anything about myself in comparison.”

Hermione let go of him and stepped back. “It makes me feel really weird that you think I’m so amazing. It makes this feel uneven. You do know things about yourself. And, I don’t know much about myself, either, really. I’m just me, Draco. Please, just see me.”

His brow furrowed. “I do see just you. Do you think I’m building you up too much? Or, am I putting myself down? I don’t understand.”

She pushed her fingers through her hair. “I hear that I’m incredible and amazing and the Golden Girl from fucking everyone. I hear it from the muggle pizza shop owner! Rita Skeeter says it sarcastically in headlines to sell newspapers! I just can’t hear anymore about how I’m superhuman. I know I’ve had to do some intense shit and I hated every minute of it. It makes me miserable to think about how much my life was fixed into place to help Harry, and how much better I had to be than everyone to make sure he didn’t die before it was time for him to fucking die.”

She fell to the floor. “And then he was dead, Draco. He was fucking dead in front of me and Voldemort won!”

He knelt in front of her. “I know. We all thought he’d won. I was so afraid when he won. Mother was shaking, but now it’s clear she was the only other one who knew besides Harry.”

She buried her head in his chest again. “I just want to be me without all this other shite, Draco. I don’t want to have to think about how you’ve changed, I just want you to be you now, and I don’t want to think about how much I’ve gone through, I just want to be me now. I want to forget about everything else and just be us. Please, Draco? I promise, we’ll talk about whatever we need to talk abou, but I just want you, Draco. I just want you and me.”

She kissed him, nipping his lips with her teeth. “Please, Draco.”

He nodded and cast a charm behind him before helping her onto her feet and up the stairs. He unlocked a room beside the top of the stairs and ushered her inside before him. “This is my room.”

The colors were all deep navy blues and teals with cream stripes and a sort of giant squid theme to the tiny details of the room. “I like it.”

He came up behind her as she looked at everything, whispering in her ear before nipping it. “I’m glad you like it.”

She turned in his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply again. Her fingers ran up through his hair. It was soft and fine and she felt like she would never get tired of touching it. He moaned into her mouth, then sucked her bottom lip between his teeth, worrying it in a way that made Hermione whimper.

His hands explored her curves, pulling her blouse free of her skirt so he could snake a hand up to cup her breast. “Is this alright?”

She nodded. “Yes, I like it when my nipples are pinched a little.” Saying it out loud made her clench the muscles in her pussy. He pinched her lightly through her bra. “A little harder. Should I take off my bra?”

He shook his head. “I like a little mystery. Can I just push the cups aside?”

Another clench. “Yes!” She pulled his head down to suck _his_ bottom lip this time. Their tongues swirled in time to the swirling of his fingertips around her nipples, stiffening with the sensations. She pulled her blouse off entirely and began working on his buttons. He kissed a line down her neck onto a breast, pinching the one nipple as he sucked the other to a stiff point in his mouth, working the very tip between his teeth and flicking it with his tongue. A little keening sound escaped from her throat.

He repeated his ministrations on the other breast, spending more time sucking it between his teeth before his tongue flicked it. She could not stop clenching her pussy around nothing. 

“Draco, can we lay down?”

“Of course, love.” He helped her up onto the giant lofted bed, removing his shirt and laying down next to her. He kissed a random path down her body as he unzipped her skirt on the side and pulled it off her entirely.

“Can I see you, too?” Why was she so afraid to ask for things?

“Yes, it’s only fair.” He laid on his back and shimmied out of his jeans, kicking them off the bed entirely to join her skirt somewhere over there. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his tented shorts. He grinned at her. “Same time?”

She mirrored his grin and hooked her own thumbs under the waistband of her knickers. “One, two, three, off!” They pulled their pants off and Hermione found herself involuntarily squeezing her thighs together, seeing his cock for the first time. “Oh, I’m so excited!”

He laughed. “I’m so glad?” He rolled on top of her, placing a leg between hers. His voice lowered again to that gravelly purr. “Is this alright? Can I touch you?” He glanced down her body and back up to her eyes.

She nodded and guided his hand to where she must be dripping onto his duvet. She showed him where the pool of her wetness was, and how to pull it from further below up to her clit to swirl and how hard to press. “Just a little harder than that, oh, yes…” She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Tell me how you see me, Draco. I want to fuck your words…”

“You’re beautiful, Hermione. Right now, your tits are pushed up and on display just for me. You showed me just how to touch you to make you fall apart in my hands, and I’m going to fuck you as soon as I make you come for me.” She felt the clenching again and pressed on her pelvis. “I can feel the way you’re tensing like that, and I can’t wait to feel it around my cock. I can’t wait for my cock to feel it, though.” He sat up slightly on his haunches and ran the fingers of his other hand up and down her slit, making her moan. He slid in two fingers immediately, and she clenched hard, feeling the peak approaching. “Morgana’s tits have nothing on yours, Hermione. You’re incredible to watch, taking your pleasure from my hands.”

She rolled her hips slightly, wanting to feel him more and more as he fucked her with his fingers. She made the crooking motion and he immediately complied, producing gasps and near-howls of moaning. “That’s so fucking hot, Hermione. I can’t wait to fuck you. I’ll make you make those noises and swallow them as I kiss you senseless.” The building tension was approaching its peak, and he sped his ministrations on her clit as she clenched around his fingers. “My words are all for you, Hermione. It’s all for you, so I can make you laugh, and give you bliss. It’s all for you, love.”

Her body hit the peak and she felt like she was falling into that huge, deep body of water that was his words. She came back into her body to find him on his side with his arm draped over her stomach, watching her with warmth in his grey eyes.

She smiled. “I think I’m falling for you, Draco. I don’t care it’s too soon to say that.”

He smiled back with what seemed almost like contentment. “Yes, I feel the same. Let’s just let it be that for a while, though? I want to not care that it’s too soon, but I do.”

She nodded and leaned in to kiss him. It was sweeter now. Their lips were already swollen, and she ran her hands all over him, cocking an eyebrow in question as she approached his cock. He pulled her hand onto it to show her how to touch him. 

“You’ve got to work the shaft.” He said it like was some sort of truism.

“Is that so?” She worked it.

“A lot of girls think you’ve got to focus on the head, but you’ve gotta work the shaft, Hermione…” She worked it as instructed, and he threw his head back, hissing through his teeth.

She whispered in his ear. “The shaft, you say? I’ve got to work it?”

He whimpered as she both worked the shaft and pulled back his foreskin to run her finger around the mushroom-like glans. “Not the head? Work the shaft?”

He was breathing shallowly and panted out, “No, that’s all good. Nnng, I can’t wait anymore!”

He turned them over and guided himself between her thighs. He reached for his wand and cast the contraceptive charm on them both then pulled her hips toward his. She kept firmly working the shaft as she had been instructed until she guided his cock into her already-clenching pussy.

It felt like peace somehow. He thrust in to the hilt and their eyes locked before they just grinned at each other like idiots. He began a languorous pace, just enough to keep them both stimulated, but relishing in the feeling of simply being joined and at peace. 

“I’ve never noticed before how your eyes are almost hazel…”

“I’ve never noticed before how yours have a tiny ring of blue at the center.”

They stared into each other's eyes for so long, Hermione almost thought she could see his aura. She closed her eyes and kissed him again, rolling her hips up to meet his on his inward thrusts. It felt like he was just barely hitting that spot she loved. She snapped her hips, trying to gain the right angle.

He sped up slightly and took his cue from the movement of her hips until he understood. “Is it this?” He made the crooking motion and she nodded. He pulled her legs up to rest her feet on his shoulders, supporting her arse and hitting directly into that spot with the head of his cock. The effect was immediate. Hermione let out a guttural moan that had many syllables unto itself.

“Yes, right there! Draco!” She clutched his thighs that were almost the only thing she could touch in this position. “Oh god, yes! Draco! Yes! Thank you!” She moaned again and Draco did not remember a time he had been harder.

“Your pussy feels just like how I imagined, love. I can’t last long with you making those noises and clenching so hard on my cock.” She pushed down on her pelvis and started playing with her clit. “Fuck, that’s so hot, Hermione. Taking your pleasure with me fucking you so hard.”

He thrust a few more times so she could feel him hitting that spot, and he could hear her moan loud and long again. “It’s just us, Hermione, it’s me and you. It’s just Draco and Hermione. It’s just me and just you, love.”

She could feel herself crying as her peak hit her. She stayed in her body this time as she rode out the sensations and Draco groaned and stilled, putting her legs down to lay on top of her, cradling her and kissing her tears. She ran her fingers through his hair, kissing his face. 

She was content.

“Are you alright, Hermione? Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head. “It just doesn’t take much to cry right now. I’m fine, just felt a lot of feelings.”

After a few minutes, he spoke up, sounding nervous. “Um, would you mind if I had one of the house elves bring our pizza up here?”

“Hmm, have your house elves negotiated their own terms for employment?”

“Mother told me last week that three of them have been freed and signed contracts and the others have been refusing to enter negotiations until they see whether we honor the contracts of the first three. Two went mad from Voldemort and can’t be freed for safety’s sake.”

She frowned. That was really scary and sad, but it was at least good that Narcissa was negotiating with the ones that could be freed. “Then, yes, you can have a house elf bring up the pizza. Could we get some water, too? Moaning and panting made me a bit parched…”

He kissed her on the cheek then got out of bed and bowed to her. “Anything for you, my lady.”

He pulled his shorts up and went into the hall, returning a moment later with a carafe of water and glasses on a tray and the pizza. Hermione took the time he was gone to put her boobs away and find her knickers.

The pizza was still hot as Draco had taken care of it with a stasis charm. He was delighted with the extra oregano. 

Hermione revelled in the new feeling that she was coming home in a way she did not understand.

“Are you alright, love? You seem pensive.”

She shook her head and tried to put words to the feeling. “So, when we were hunting for the horcruxes, we spent a month at Twelve Grimmauld. We ate pizza from Joseph’s almost every day because I was trying to save the food I’d stored for when we really needed it and we didn’t trust Kreacher. Ron almost never left the house because he’s so recognisable and Death Eaters were stationed outside, although they couldn’t see anything. Harry and I would go under the cloak until we were out of sight of the watchers, and we’d get the pizzas, and we were there so much that month that Joseph was really interested in us. I think he thought I’d escaped an abusive family situation and Harry was hiding me out or something. 

“But, then we broke into the Ministry for Umbridge’s locket and I thought I’d never get Joseph’s pizza again. Of course, we’ve gotten it a couple of times since the Battle, but it doesn’t feel the same. You living so close make this feel even more right somehow. Like, I’ll never be, I don’t know, I’ll never be that Hermione again that went on the run to try to save the world, but I’ll always be Hermoony, that version of myself that Joseph gives cookies to, as long as I have Joseph’s pizza.” She looked down at her half-eaten crust and felt the tears brimming in her eyes. “Does that make any sense?”

Draco reached out and cupped her cheek, running his thumb along her cheekbone. “Yes, I think so. You feel like everything is changing, because it is. Your life is different than it was a year ago and two years ago and three years ago, and maybe it feels like you’re a different person now than you were, but every time you see Joseph, there’s a feeling that you are just one person. It’s not like seeing your friends all the time, because they both do and don’t see who you are and how you’re always changing, but with Joseph, you see both how you’ve changed and how you’re still yourself.”

Her eyes went wide as he spoke. How did he know? “Do you have someone like that?”

His hand dropped to his lap and he played with his cuticle as he spoke. “Not exactly. It’s more like everyone is like that for me. Seeing Mother is like that because we’re apart so much, but then Severus was like that a bit, too. I don’t exactly have people who don’t know me who like me, though. Not like Joseph. Everyone knows my family or sees me as the Malfoy heir or a Death Eater, and I haven’t had a chance to be anything else yet.” He looked up as if in apology. “But, I mean, I’m also all those things, and I’m not trying to not be those things. I’m just, it’s so fucking overwhelming being only those things to everyone.”

Hermione moved the pizza box aside and crawled into his lap, wrapping her legs around his torso and putting her arms around his neck. She made him look her directly in the eyes. “Draco, you have time to be whatever you’ll be next. You’re going to do amazing things, and even if people can never forget all of the other things, you’ll give them better things to think of first. I can feel how much you’ve changed.” She reached for his Marked arm and ran her fingers over the now blood-red mark. “This is not all you are to me. And, your family doesn’t mean fucking anything to me although your mother is rather amazing. And, no matter if you stay a Malfoy or become a Black, or found your own dynasty under a different name, I’ll never think of your name first when I think of you. I’ll always think of the man who wanted to give me answers, and who saw me when I needed someone to see me.” She ran her fingers down his chest, following the Sectumsempra scar, and resting her hand over his heart. “I’ll always think of your heart and that’s who you’ll be to me.”

Draco looked intoxicated by her words. He pulled her into him, kissing her deeply on the mouth. She responded in kind, and they spent the next minutes exploring their many scars, praising each other’s bodies with kisses to follow the many hurts of the past.

He eventually looked into her eyes, quietly asking, “Is it alright if we don’t go again? It does feel like a lot, you know?”

She nodded and caressed his cheek. “I know, it feels like this could just, uh, oh, I don’t want to say it.” 

Forever. It felt like forever.

He nodded. “I know. I don’t want to say it, either.” He held her in his lap, fitting his chin over her shoulder.

Hermione rested her head on his shoulder. She thought of the paradox of being both the same person and a different person. She thought of the paradox of the Golden Girl with the Slytherin King. She thought of the Slytherin Sex God with the Gryffindor Prude and smiled. She thought of strings and her breath hitched.

What if they were soulmates? Or, what if they were not soulmates? Or, what if they were like Draco’s parents and they were soulmates now, but the soulmate bond broke later? She sighed.

“Bad thoughts, too?” He shifted his head to rest it in the other direction.

She nodded and bit her lip. She held him tighter. “I just don’t want this feeling to end, Draco.”

He rubbed her back in slow circles. “I know. I don’t want it to end, either.” He pulled away and held her face in his hands. “Unless you stop wanting me, I’ll do whatever I have to do so I don’t lose you, Hermione.”

She closed her eyes and tears fell. “Can you just hold me?”

“Of course, love.” His voice was soft and he wrapped his arms back around her, holding her close.

They laid down and wound their limbs together, holding each other as Hermione described the many novelty mugs of the Weasley house and Draco described the many naming conventions of the Malfoy house elves. At nine forty-five, both of their wands signaled their independently-set alarms. They collapsed into giggles at how similarly they had thought about the re-arrival of Draco’s mother.

Hermione got up from the giant bed and put her clothes back on, doing her best to look like she had not just been thoroughly shagged. “I’ve got to get my robe from downstairs. I’ll floo back to the Burrow from there.”

Draco nodded and pulled on a white tshirt with his jeans. “Hermione, I meant what I said before. All of it back to when I saw you in court at my trial. It’s really important to me that you know that.”

She stepped closer and brushed his hair back from his forehead. “I know. That’s who I see when I look at you. I see everything you are now, everything you’ve said to me since that morning in court.”

“I just know what I’m going to have to say in court tomorrow, and lots of it is about you, but only how past me thought of you. None of it is how I really feel now. Please just remember that while I’m testifying.”

She was definitely fucking worried now, but she held her smile for him. “I fucking know who you are, Draco.”

They heard the floo bell announcing the arrival of Narcissa downstairs. “We’d better get you out of here before you turn into a pumpkin, my lady.”

She let herself be ushered out the door into the hall. She took in the pictures along the wall as she descended the stairs. She received fewer scoffing stares and disgusted looks than she had expected.

Narcissa was just taking off her shawl as they arrived at the foot of the stairs. “Ah, there you are, my darlings.” She glanced at their hair. “I trust you had a nice night. I must be off to bed.” She kissed Hermione and then Draco on the cheek. “See you both in the morning, although I trust it will be in different locations.” She disappeared up the stairs silently.

Hermione blushed and whispered, “Your mother knows we had sex!”

Draco was a rather pinker color than his normal pale. “I will never know for sure, but I think she set us up somehow?”

She giggled. “We’ll have to introduce her to Neville. They can start a matchmaking and Herbology business together.” She got a serious look on her face. “Oh, they really might get along well, though. They can both go on about plants longer than anyone I’ve ever met, Draco. Come on, Draco! Draco?!”

Draco silenced her with a final thorough snogging before sending her off after mutually agreeing that they did not want to bone down for the second time against the wall by Draco’s mother’s main floo entry, and that that was where the snogging was headed if not immediately ended. She amazed herself by not forgetting her robes.

She gave him one final kiss on the nose before throwing her powder into the fire and calling out for the Burrow.

Molly was sitting with her romance novel and a cup of tea in the kitchen when Hermione arrived. She smiled up at the girl holding her robes in her arms. “How was your evening, deary?”

Hermione shook a little with excitement. “I went for pizza with Draco…”

Molly’s eyes twinkled. “That sounds lovely. Did he treat you well?”

She nodded furiously. “He was amazing, Molly.” She felt herself get teary again. “He was just like I’ve been wanting him to be. He’s the same as his letters.”

The older woman nodded and held out her hand. Hermione took it and sat next to her, sitting sideways in the chair. She could barely speak, but she had to tell someone, even if she could not tell him yet. “I’m, I’m already falling in love with him and I don’t know what to do…” She choked back a sob.

Molly put her arms around Hermione, rubbing her back. “You’ll figure it out, love. I know you, and if he’s like you say, you’re going to be fine. Falling in love for the first time is scary and exciting and it’s aptly named. You feel like you’re falling, but it’s okay because when it goes both ways, you catch each other.”

Hermione straightened up in her chair. “That was extremely poetic. I’ve never heard you talk that way before.”

She shrugged. “Well, I sometimes get ideas from books, just like you, my dear…” She glanced at the book with the picture of the chiseled Scots wizard being battered by the wind on the cover.

They both giggled. “Is there quite a lot of wind in that book? He looks like he’s being attacked by it!”

Molly laughed. “No! There isn’t even a stiff breeze that anyone mentions. I think it’s just an aesthetic choice for the cover. He hasn’t even worn a kilt. I’m quite disappointed.”

Hermione laughed again and then yawned very wide. “I’m apparently tired, so I think I’ll go to bed now before I fall asleep sitting up here.” She kissed Molly on the cheek. “Can we just forget I said that?”

Molly looked around. “Said what, dear?” She winked.

She hugged her friend around the neck again. “Thank you!”

Hermione ran up the stairs, collapsing in bed almost before she had set her alarm again.


	16. Bilge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione learns about Draco's life since Christmas of their first year at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for panic attacks (plural)
> 
> Thank you for continuing to read! As always, let me know what you think of the story.
> 
> I'll be updating an extra time next week, so there will be an update on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. I've gotten an extra few chapters rewritten and beta-ed, and I'm anxious to get them posted.
> 
> Love you all. Stay safe in your isolation cocoons!

June 7, 1998

On the second day of Lucius Malfoy’s trial, Hermione woke in a tiny panic that she and Draco had not discussed how public they would be about their burgeoning relationship. She did not have long to worry, though, as she arrived in the kitchen to see herself on the front page of the Daily Prophet. 

The two photos told an extremely specific story. In the first photo, Draco was startling the wizard who tried to enter the lift with them after lunch and Hermione was biting back a smirk behind him. In the second, Hermione with the hair of the freshly-snogged was smiling at Draco before she throws her floo powder into the fire and steps in, then Draco steps in behind her.

The headline was uninspired, though. “Golden Girl Fallen?” There was almost no actual article, although Rita Skeeter dwells on the point that they had disappeared for nearly fifteen minutes after the conclusion of the day only to reappear disheveled as in the photo.

At least no one knew where Hermione was this summer. She had gotten sick of howlers in the early days of her ‘relationship’ with Harry being front-page news.

Arthur and Molly were still their cheerful selves. As Hermione shoveled her cereal into her maw, Arthur pointed to the photos. “Now, what does it mean, Fallen? You clearly hadn’t even tripped either of these times, Hermione!” 

Hermione tried not to chuckle, but it was too silly. She rolled her eyes and continued to eat her cereal, just wanting the day to start.

At the Ministry, she wasted no time, going directly to Ms Skeeter herself as she and her photographer stood waiting for a lift. “Rita! So good to see you this morning! I love the new brooch. It really brings out your elytra.”

Rita swallowed. “Good morning, Miss Granger. I’m not sure what you mean.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Hmm, I’m sure you don’t. Please just be aware that every time you violate my friends and MY privacy, my desire to stay out of YOUR private affairs diminishes a little more. Why, some day my desire to not ruin you might be the size of a beetle, and well, then you just might be squashed, Rita.” She turned and walked back to the Magical Unity fountain and to wait for Draco and Narcissa.

She heard the whispers and saw the dirty looks she received, but she merely smiled at anyone who actually made eye contact with her.

Finally, Draco and Narcissa stepped out of the fireplace and approached her. Narcissa kissed her cheek. “Good morning, my dear. Are you alright? I’ve owled my solicitor this morning to see if there’s anything to be done about the Skeeter woman. I’m hoping there will be something Ms Huntsley can do about all this libel directed at you.”

Hermione fixed a neutral expression on her face and stated simply, “I’m fine. She ought to have known not to write about me, and she didn’t, so if she doesn’t retract it somehow, she’ll have to learn her lesson the hard way.” She smiled at Draco. “Are you alright?”

Draco rolled his eyes back into his head slightly and shook his head. “Peachy-keen as always, Granger. Just dealing with the fact that association with me means you’ve ‘fallen’.”

She smiled again. “Don’t worry. She’ll probably write something nice about us both soon to make it up to me.” 

Draco stared at her with something between fear and hunger.

“Let’s all go to court, then?” Narcissa gestured to the lifts.

In the black marble hallway, Hermione was surprised to see Ginny sitting with Harry. “Wotcher, Mione?” She eyed Draco suspiciously. “Malfoy.”

Draco nodded in her direction. “Weaslette.”

Harry clapped his hands together nervously. “So, it’s time for the Skeeter reveal?”

Hermione smiled in her best imitation of Luna’s serenity. “Well, she can’t very well fix it if she’s in prison, can she?”

Draco looked extremely uncomfortable but said nothing.

Narcissa stepped forward. “Miss Weasley, are you here to testify today?”

Ginny nodded. “Yes, Mrs Malfoy. It’s about the diary. Just a quick trip today. I’ll be going back to Hogwarts when I’m done.”

A flash of discomfort passed over Narcissa’s face. “Please, call me Narcissa. I’m glad you’ll have a chance to tell your story, Miss Weasley. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go take my seat.”

Hermione waved slightly. “I’m going to go in now, too.” She squeezed Draco’s hand and went into the courtroom.

There were many more observers today, and Hermione could not help but think it was because of the morning’s photos in the Prophet. Why else would Draco and Hermione have been at the Ministry together than for Lucius’s trial?

She settled in for whatever Draco was going to say, but then, Ginny was called in first.

Ginny told her short tale of receiving the diary mysteriously in Flourish & Blotts when Lucius Malfoy had been there taunting the family. She described discovering the diary could speak to her, and how she lost chunks of time during the year, always coming back to consciousness after something terrible had occurred. The Wizengamot had few questions for her, but they did seem to repeat and repeat.

Were the judges stalling for some reason? Why were they putting off Draco’s testimony?

Finally, Ginny was dismissed and Draco was called to the stand.

After Draco was sworn in, Kingsley gave his signature clear-of-the-throat. “Mr Malfoy, the court has been given to understand that you wish to begin with the afternoon of December 25th, 1991.”

Draco nodded. “Thank you, yes, Minister. It was my first Christmas back from school and Father’s gift had been a broom, but as soon as the gift was given, he put conditions on letting me use it. That Christmas afternoon, he explained that Harry Potter was a great Dark Wizard who would become the leader that the Dark Lord always should have been. He had heard that Harry was friends with the wrong sort, and told me that if I ever had the opportunity I should eliminate those friends. He asked me exactly who Potter associated with, and when I told him it was Ron Weasley and the Muggleborn Hermione Granger, he lost his composure, breaking the broom and screaming that Potter was going down the wrong path entirely, and that mudbloods and blood traitors were corrupting Hogwarts from the inside out. He told me that he would give me anything I wanted if I eliminated ‘the traitor’ and ‘the mudblood’. The first step to earning what I wanted was to learn Avada Kedavra. He forced me to begin practicing on rats in the Manor dungeon on Boxing Day.”

He took a deep breath and swallowed. “I was finally able to cast it successfully the next summer, and he outfitted the entire Slytherin Quidditch team with new kits and brooms and made sure I was given the Seeker position as my reward. I’d had to kill seven rats to earn the kits for everyone.”

The witch with the spectrespecs-like glasses piped up. “What did Lucius Malfoy intend that you do after you learned the killing curse, Mr Malfoy?”

Draco looked like he was going to vomit. He stared straight ahead, directly at his father. “The first time I killed a rat with it, he hugged me and told me that was how I would take out the mudblood Granger.”

Hermione stared at Draco, her heart beating so loudly she thought everyone in the chamber must be able to hear it.

Draco continued. “Father asked about her frequently, almost as much as he asked about me. Hermione Granger was already the top of the class by the end of our first year, and firmly entrenched in Harry Potter’s life. At the end of the first year when Potter prevented Quirrell from bringing Voldemort back, Father was livid that he had been so wrong about Potter’s place in pureblood supremacy. As I explained to him, Harry was not very smart and he was certainly not very Dark, but Granger was smart enough to keep all of them alive.” He took a sip of water.

“So, he became obsessed with how to remove Granger. As everything happened with the Chamber of Secrets in second year, he kept asking me if Granger had been taken out yet. I couldn’t understand what he meant until that kid Colin Creevy was petrified and then later Justin Fitch-Fletchley, that something was targeting all the ‘mudblood filth’. When Granger herself was petrified, Father told me to just go fix the problem, but there were so many people around all the time, I had no chance, let alone that I was only twelve. Then Potter and Weasley defeated the basilisk and destroyed the diary by themselves and Father was furious I’d not done more with the opportunities the basilisk provided.

“I think he had some plan to use the hippogriff’s execution the following year, but then that never happened.”

He took a shaky breath. “Then, the following year at the Quidditch World Cup, Father told me to keep my eyes open when everything went to hell as I’d have my chance to do my job, and since muggles and muggleborns were being targeted, no one would think anything of one witch dying in the scrum. I couldn’t do it. I had the perfect chance in the forest, and I could not summon the required desire. Father was furious when he found out I’d not done my duty. He made me practice on larger things, more sympathetic things. He’d glamour things to make me practice. I can’t be sure I didn’t kill any actual people after that. The worst part about the rest of the summer was that I learned that the Killing Curse requires the desire to see the thing die, but it does not care why you want the thing to die. For the majority of those practice sessions, my desire to see the thing die was so that I could stop killing things. He forced me to kill eighty-seven things that summer.”

A gasp escaped most of the observers in the chamber and half the Wizengamot. Draco seemed to not hear the reaction, lost in his own recollections. Hermione looked down to find that she was clutching Narcissa’s hand quite hard but could not bring herself to remove it.

“I think Father hoped that the Tri-Wizard Tournament would take out Potter or Granger for him, but then Voldemort was brought back instead and Father’s goal to take out Granger became more pointed. He wanted me to use my authority on the Inquisitorial Squad to do something drastic. At that point, it was not actually clear to me that Voldemort had returned. The monster was not yet living in our home, and although Father’s attitude had changed, it seemed that he was simply upset that I hadn’t yet been able to do anything about Granger. So, when he continued to make Granger’s removal the focus everything, it just seemed like more of the same.”

Draco took another sip of water. “Then, he was arrested having broken into the Ministry and sent to Azkaban. And, Voldemort and Aunt Bellatrix came to live in the Manor. I was Marked and given the job to do BECAUSE Voldemort knew I had been trained by Father to perform the Killing Curse on command.” He shuddered. “But, when Father returned after his escape, he held no more power over me. He still harped on about the job HE’D given men, but of course his job paled in comparison to my new job.”

He took another shaking breath and glanced into the gallery where Hermione sat. He had barely looked at anyone besides Lucius while talking, and this was barely even eye-contact. “His only moment of even a sliver of understanding that he’d tasked me with something wrong was the day Granger was tortured in the Manor by my aunt. I’d been sent away to take the unconscious bodies from the room, and when I returned, Bellatrix was using Cruciatus on Granger. I told Father it would be better if I used the Killing Curse on her now rather than letting my aunt torture her into insanity like the Longbottoms. And, he looked at me with confusion and just said, ‘She’s a child, what have I done?’”

From the cage across the room, Lucius let out a blubbering sob.

“At the Battle of Hogwarts, he did nothing to make anything easier or better for the side that opposed Voldemort. So, clearly his lesson that the entire war was adults fighting children did not sink in as something wrong, just the one child who’d been tortured on his floor was too much for him.”

Draco had reached the end of his story. Silence hung over the room but for the sniffling coming from the cage. Hermione had been focused on Draco so fully that she was startled to find a handkerchief in her hand that was damp with what she assumed were her own tears. She found that the tears were still running down her face. She looked over at Narcissa as she wiped her cheeks and took in a shaky breath. Narcissa nodded to her and patted Hermione’s white-knuckled hand that still clutched her own.

A bald wizard in the top tier of the court broke the silence. “Mr Malfoy, please describe exactly what your father instructed you to do to ‘take out’ Miss Granger.”

Draco stared without seeing. “He instructed me in how to cast Avada Kedavra, and he told me that I was to find an opportunity to use it on Hermione Granger.”

“And, how many times did you actually attempt to cast the killing curse on Miss Granger?”

He sighed. “Just once, after the Wizarding World Cup when the Death Eaters were causing a riot. He said I would have the perfect opportunity since muggles and muggleborns were being targeted.”

Kingsley gave a short cough and called for the hour and a half lunch recess. Hermione had no idea how long they had been in the chamber. 

Narcissa leaned over to whisper in Hermione’s ear. “May I recommend that you return to Black House for lunch, Hermione? I have an appointment at the solicitor’s office.”

Hermione nodded. She and Draco exited the courtroom and walked down the hall in silence. Hermione felt so aware of him without even needing to look at him. The small crowd parted to let them through and allowed them to enter the lift alone.

As soon as the doors closed, they crashed together, clutching each other and speaking at the same time.

“I’m so sorry…” “There wasn’t anything…” “...wanted to tell you everything…” “...could have done…” “...stupid spell…” “...would have…” “...” “...”

They both reached the limit of what they could say to each other on opposite sides of the judicial spell at the moment. They simply held each other until the lift dinged that it had arrived at the lobby.

Draco jumped back, but Hermione grabbed his hand, clutching it as she marched out of the lift.

Rita Skeeter’s photographer stood near the fireplaces, stopping Hermione short and bumping Draco into her side. “Can you apparate into Black House, Draco?”

He had a distant look in his eyes but nodded. 

“Can you take me with you?”

He nodded again and his brow furrowed.

“Let’s go there now.”

He trembled slightly but finally nodded and she held tight to his arm as he apparated out of the lobby.

Black House was silent but for their crack of apparation. Draco went straight to the nearest chair and sat down with his head between his legs, mumbling something that must have been a house elf name. There was a tiny pop and an elf appeared, saw him hunched over, and popped back out again. The same elf popped in again a few seconds later and handed him a small vial of Calming Draught.

Hermione was frozen in place. She had never been on this side of a panic attack, and she had almost no idea what to do. She found her wits and approached Draco, kneeling in front of him. She carefully placed her hands on his legs, rubbing gently up and down his calves. “Draco, it’s Hermione. I’m here with you in your mother’s house. I’m okay, Draco. I’m here and I’m alive and I’m fine. Nothing happened to me, Draco.”

He nodded, head still between his legs. He was breathing irregularly. “Can’t… talk…”

Hermione nodded. “I understand. You don’t have to talk right now. Can I have the elf take us upstairs so you can lay down for a bit?”

He nodded again. “Mimo.”

“Mimo?” The same elf popped in. “Mimo, can you take us upstairs to Draco’s room? He needs to lay down.”

The elf nodded nervously, grasping her and Draco extremely gingerly and popping them upstairs. Draco fell gently into bed and Hermione sat on the edge next to him.

“Mimo, could we have two sandwiches and some juice? Two glasses of juice. Whatever is Draco’s favorite for everything. Thank you.”

Mimo popped out and back in again a minute later with a tray and set it on the bedside table. Draco had moved over on the bed and Hermione sat with her back against the ornate headboard.

“Thank you, Mimo.” The elf curtseyed and popped out again. “Draco, I’m going to eat my sandwich and if you can, you should eat yours.”

Draco shook his head with closed eyes and a furrowed brow.

“If you can’t eat, can you at least drink the juice?”

He nodded and sat up enough to drink from the goblet while Hermione ate her sandwich. She listened as Draco’s breath steadied. They sat in silence, holding hands and tracing small nonsense patterns on their forearms with their fingertips. As their reprieve from the violence of the court drew to an end, Hermione sliced Draco’s sandwich into smaller pieces and he was able to eat a few before shaking his head.

When the time finally came, they returned to the Ministry by floo. As soon as they arrived, Draco tried to pull away, but Hermione held fast to his arm.

His eyes held confusion tinged with fear. “But, Skeeter?”

She shook her head and smiled up at him. “I want THIS, Draco.” She clasped his hand and held it up to her lips to kiss it.

His gaze softened and he nearly smiled.

They returned to the depths of the Ministry and found the chamber filled with even more observers than the morning. A seat was saved between Harry and Narcissa that Hermione slipped into with a bolstering breath.

Kingsley called the court back to order. The same wizard from the end of the morning’s session began with more questions about the exact circumstances of Lucius’s directive to use the Killing Curse on Hermione.

“It was so many times, it was practically a mantra from him for years -- to always look for opportunities, to always be ready, to keep the required desire in my mind whenever she was there. He wanted Snape to teach me occlumency so I could block out anything but the will to kill her.”

The bald wizard spoke up again. “Did he ever make an attempt on her life himself? He was also at the World Cup, so why did he not make the attempt on Miss Granger’s life? Why have you do it?”

“He said that if I could do it, he could keep me from being put away for it. I assume he was going to keep me out of prison the same way he influenced the Ministry for years before Voldemort’s return -- bribery, extortion, and strategically overpaying his taxes. With vaults as big as ours, it’s hard to be convicted for anything. I’m sure Father was counting on that.”

Hermione looked at Lucius again. He still looked completely pathetic, but now he had a sneer on his bruised face and looked as though he could set Draco on fire with his hateful stare.

“Did Lucius Malfoy specifically tell you that if you killed Miss Granger, you would not go to prison?”

“He really only said that when I was in what he called my ‘weaker moments’. Whenever I seemed like I was not completely committed to my assignment, he would rattle off a whole host of reasons why she was inferior and how it was the right thing to do for our family and society to rid the world of the blight of people like her. It always ended with, ‘and they could never convict you for it, I would see to it’.”

“So, at age eleven, he set you to the task of killing a schoolmate in cold blood? Using the most Unforgivable Curse known?”

“Yes. Father believed that one should take out a threat as early as possible using whatever means would guarantee the threat was completely neutralized. I was the means by which he would guaranteed that Miss Granger was completely neutralized.”

“Mr Malfoy, did you witness any of the following…”

Draco spent the remainder of the afternoon answering questions. He became increasingly sarcastic as he answered the same questions over and over again as if each member of the Wizengamot could not hear the questions and answers that the other members asked.

No, Draco was quite certain he had not seen the murders of any of those people. 

Yes, his father had explicitly told him what the killing curse does and instructed him in how to perform it, and that he was definitely supposed to kill Hermione.

Yes, definitely Hermione.

Yes, because she is a filthy mudblood whore who would definitely bring down every single person who had ever been in the same room as her simply by continuing to live.

Why, yes, his father does sound like he is obsessed with someone he does not know to an alarming degree.

Hermione herself was completely exhausted by the end of the day when they finally finished with Draco. She had an insistent urge to escape.

She no longer wanted to be strong for him, to be there for him unconditionally during this trial. She wanted to curl up in her bed in the Burrow and Dreamless Sleep for about a week. Was that fair? She had done what he asked her to do. Now, he could witness the rest of the trial for himself and they could talk about it afterward.

Narcissa and Hermione met Draco in the hallway. Narcissa looked concerned. “Draco, dear, are you hungry? You got that sarcastic attitude you get when you’re hungry.”

Draco almost imperceptibly rolled his eyes. 

Hermione was suddenly quite put off by him. They all cared enough to be here! For him! “I think I should go back to the Burrow for the evening. This was a bit too much for me today and I need to rest.”

She felt like she was going to throw up from saying it. How could she say it was too much for her? She had been through far more than hearing the man she fancied had wanted to kill her for a large chunk of their acquaintance. 

She _had_ been through more than that, right?

She looked up at Draco’s face. He looked angry? Or sad? Sick, maybe? He spoke in a monotone, betraying nothing. “I understand. I hope you rest well. You don’t need to come back anymore if you don’t want to. You shouldn’t do anything you don’t want to.”

Hermione could feel tears trying to well up from behind her eyes. “Alright. I’ll see how I feel.” She turned to Narcissa. “Thank you for everything today, Narcissa. I’ll see you soon.” She had no idea what else to do, so she went to the lifts with the throng of observers.

In the lift, she crammed herself into a back corner and ignored the glances and whispers. She just needed to get back to the Burrow. She ran through the steps to getting to safety.

Get out of the lift. Walk across the lobby. Grab a fist-full of powder. Throw it in the fire. Call out “The Burrow”. Step into the fire.

Collapse on the kitchen floor. Expel the contents of the stomach. Feel heat and wetness on the cheeks. Sit in a chair. Sit in a chair. Sit in a chair.

Stare at a series of people as they talk. Take a potion.

Harry is there. He’s saying something about Draco. He seems angry? Or sad? That seems normal.

Molly is there. She’s very concerned. What happened now? Something with Draco?

Suddenly something is hilariously funny. Because, the whole time she was trying to keep Harry alive, Draco was trying to kill her, get it? And now he’s so sorry. He feels so sorry, he would do anything. And, he can’t stand the idea that she hates him. Which, success, you know? She absolutely does not hate him. She could never hate him now. The whole thing is just so absurd.

They get another potion into her. She can feel everything slipping. Harry is there and Molly is there and probably there are others there. 

But, she just wants Draco. Why is she not allowed to just have Draco? She wants it to be just her and just Draco, forever.


	17. Keel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione hangs out at the Burrow, talks to Ginny about sex and life, and watches a dinosaur movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do other people like my Chapter Summaries as much as I like my Chapter Summaries? 
> 
> Thank you for the comments last chapter. Love you all!

July 9, 1998

Hermione woke up in the morning in her bed in the Burrow. What day was it? She felt like she had been dead.

She reached for her wand and found only a slip of parchment that stated her wand was downstairs.

Did she want to go downstairs? There would be coffee or the ability to make coffee there. But, there would also most likely be a whole load of people who would ask her about her feelings. Who could possibly know how they felt at a time like this?

She thought about what she did and did not want to say. She practiced how she would say she did not want to talk about what happened, practicing it aloud, repeatedly.

A knock came at the door. “Oy, Hermione, we get it. No one’s going to fucking ask you about the blond git. It’s been a day and a half. Come get something to eat so we don’t have to pour another replenishment potion down your throat…” George’s voice was very much Done With Hermione’s Drama.

She waited to hear him go back down the hall and shut his door before leaving the room to go downstairs. Her wand was on the table next to another note and a plate of breakfast with a stasis charm to keep it hot. She did the tempus charm to find it was only barely still morning on Thursday.

The note read, “ _Hermione, this breakfast is for you. Back soon. Love, Molly”_

She dug into the plate of potatoes, sausage, and eggs with abandon. She had been out for nearly two days. When had she had that burst of hysteria? Was that the night before, or two nights before?

She found herself skirting around the issue of Why and considering instead what had happened and in what order. She just wanted him. She played with her wand as she ate, finding she could cast _Ostende Filum_ with her left hand and staring at her wrist where the red string shone invisible against her wrist. She stared out the window to the North where that terrible string led her in the direction of Hogwarts.

She could not focus. She finished her food, taking a cup of coffee upstairs in a mug that seemed to be from a defunct _Daily Prophet_ advice column.

Harry had been there. He had been in the courtroom to hear everything, then here when she went numb. She had a sudden fantasy that she should go to Grimmauld Place and play Mario all day, then fall asleep on Harry’s giant couch. She would wake up horny and go visit Draco in Black House and seduce him. But, of course, that would never work. She had no idea how she had gotten him to fuck her the first time, what with all his baggage about…

And now, she had lost her shit entirely because of him, again. Was it about what he said in court? Or, was it about how he pulled away when she said she needed to rest? Fuck him! Why was she losing her mind about him? She was Hermione Motherfucking Granger! She did not need Draco Malfoy!

But, what if she did need him? She cast _Ostende Filum_ again and saw the string going out to the North. She was terrified of how much she felt for him so quickly. If he was not on the other end of that string, she knew she would have to go through him to get to that person.

She felt suddenly that her entire life was disassembled right now. She had distinct pieces that were all disconnected and she had a drive to put all the pieces back together.

She spent the next few hours making a list of what felt disconnected.

> _Parts to connect again  
>  \- Draco feels disconnected because he told the truth about his father and I needed to be away from him. Also, he was on a mission to kill me through most of the time I’ve known him, and I feel that puts a bit more distance between us than I had thought there was.  
> _
> 
> _-Harry feels disconnected because I told him what I needed and while he seemed to be okay, I haven’t really talked to him since then.  
> _
> 
> _-Ginny feels disconnected because I barely talk to her, ever, about anything but my stuff? So I don’t know what’s going on with her, but as Harry’s girlfriend, she must be going through something, too.  
> _
> 
> _-Ron feels disconnected because something’s going on with him and Luna and I don’t know what, and how do we be friends if we’re not either fighting or trying to be together?  
> _
> 
> _-Neville feels disconnected because what are we now that we’re not casually shagging each other? He’s in love with Luna, and I don’t have any claim on him, but there’s a part of me that misses how easy it was to be with him. And, the more I think about that part of me, the bigger it feels.  
> _
> 
> _-My parents feel disconnected because they literally do not remember me, and are in Australia.  
> _
> 
> _-Luna feels disconnected because I fucked Neville who is in love with her, and Ron who she is with (?) was commonly thought to be meant for me, so it’s like we’re each other’s opposite?  
> _
> 
> _-Hogwarts feels disconnected because I didn’t take care of myself and made everyone worry about me and didn’t do my actual job when given things to do that I thought I was too good for._

Oh, that rather got to the issue at the root of everything. Hermione felt she was too good to have problems now that Voldemort was dead. She knew it was completely absurd, but there it was. Now they had done their jobs, they should have no more issues!

She really hated the adults who had been guiding them. In so many ways, they had only prepared them all to kill Voldemort. No one had ever prepared them for what came after that huge traumatic thing. No wonder Harry spent all his time playing video games and eating pizza in between going to court. No wonder Hermione had been physically incapable of not doing healing when told to only check incoming patients’ status. She had never before had to do the bare minimum, and no one was teaching her how to do that now!

So, Hermione needed to learn _how_ to do only what she was told. She needed to feel like it was okay to have problems that were not literal life or death. Because, for fuck’s sake, not all problems in life _should be_ life or death to be worthy of attention!

By the end of the day, she missed Draco. With him, all her problems felt like they were worth her time. She really needed a way to communicate with him that was faster than owling overnight or sending letters with people on the weekend. What if she did a kind of Protean charm on two journals to twin them?

It might be good to go out tomorrow to find those. She considered what would happen if she went into Diagon Alley right now. It would be a fucking mob scene. Maybe she could just go to a Waterstones or something. That sounded much better.

Harry and Ginny came to dinner that night. Harry obviously could not talk about what happened in court, but he clearly wanted to reassure Hermione about something. Hermione had the powerful urge to escape as soon as possible, and excused herself as soon as she finished eating.

She sat at the desk staring at a parchment that stated simply “ _Dear Professor McGonagall_ ” when Ginny burst into the room and launched herself onto the bed.

“What’s your damage, Hermione?” Ginny cackled.

Hermione laughed and turned in the chair to face the bed. “Did Harry make you watch _Heathers_?”

“Make me? Merlin, no! I _wanted_ to watch it! I rather hated the ending, but…” Ginny shrugged. “He wants to watch one about dinosaurs tonight. We’re trading off, one he wants to see, then one I want to see. So far I rather hate his taste in movies, except the Bond ones.”

Hermione chuckled. “I think that’s part of why those have come back over and over. They get hot men to play Bond and it makes them popular with both men and women. And as soon as the man ages out of being attractive, they replace him.”

“That explains why none of the women return.”

“Did you ever watch _Titanic_? That one was quite good. Also, very very long. It has a break built into the middle.”

Ginny shook her head. “Give me more recommendations. I’m so tired of trying to figure out what to watch that I might actually like. So far I’ve liked _Heathers_ , and _Clueless_ , and _Sense and Sensibility_ , although it was hard to understand what was going on most of the time in that one, and _Four Weddings and a Funeral_. Also, any of the ones with talking animals. I don’t understand how they do that without magic, but Harry swears they’re not really talking.”

Hermione wrote out a list of movies she thought they would have at whatever video rental place Harry was visiting. She underlined _Robin Hood (the one with the foxes)_.

“No, but seriously, Hermione. What’s wrong with you lately?” Ginny sat up in bed and crossed her legs. “You said you got kicked out, but I don’t think that’s really what happened with McGonagall. One day nothing was wrong and then the next day you couldn’t keep up your side of a conversation. You got sick that one day and everything just fell apart. We’re all really worried about you. Morgana knows I hate talking about feelings, but Harry says it’s good to let things out and listen to your friends when they’re having problems, so I’m here.”

Hermione took a deep breath and pulled out her list of things making her feel disconnected. Sharing could be a good thing, right? She handed the list to Ginny without a word.

Ginny read for a minute, then pointed to the first point. “This thing about Draco, this has to do with his father’s trial, yeah?” Hermione nodded. “Well, it’s all blurry, so I can’t fucking wait to hear what that could be.” She pointed to the part about herself. “Do you really want to hear about me? I mean, it’s just a lot of shite about what happened at Hogwarts while you three were off mucking about in hiding.”

“Yes, I think I do want to hear about you. Even if it’s just more of the same. I know you were targeted by the Carrows and didn’t come back after Easter.”

“I mean, it was just exhausting when it wasn’t terrifying. Having to stay on my guard all the time, and they just wanted to get information from me about Harry. I’m just glad you all didn’t tell me anything so I knew I didn’t know anything when they tortured me.” She sighed.

“And, of course, I missed Harry all the time. I thought one day I’d find out he was dead and What’s-His-Nose had won. In a lot of ways, it was like it had actually already happened. Harry was gone and I was hiding because they’d taken over the Ministry. But then it was all over and Harry was back and then he was really dead.”

Ginny’s face crumpled. “I mean, he was actually dead. We all saw him dead and Voldemort won. Like, what the fuck?” She pushed the tears away with the butt of her hand. “I thought we were really all going to die then, you know? Didn’t you?”

Hermione nodded and came to sit on the bed next to Ginny. “Of course. We all thought he was dead. Literally everyone thought that except Narcissa. We all thought we’d lost. As bad as it had been all year, at least we still had hope. But, then we didn’t even have that anymore.” She felt the tears coming to her eyes, too. “I thought I was going to be next, just that it was going to be a flash of green and then nothing. And it didn’t even make any sense when he disappeared and came back, you know? It felt like it was just going to be a trick.”

Ginny’s head bobbed in agreement. “And, like, I don’t think Harry really knows how terrifying it was to see him dead. And, I don’t want to tell him? I think it was rubbish, everything from his childhood up through Hogwarts, and he doesn’t need the weight of what it was like for us in that moment. I mean, he was alive, but he actually HAD been dead, you know? Like, we didn’t die that day, but he did?” She put her head on Hermione’s shoulder. “It did feel good to say that. You know, rebuilding everything, it feels like a different thing entirely, and no one really talks about any of what happened, but it’s literally why we’re all there.”

She pulled her head up. “Why did you leave, Hermione?”

Hermione sighed and looked at her hands playing with the hem of her jeans. “Well, I think there was a bit of just being overwhelmed with everything that happened since the wedding. And, I never gave myself a break afterward. I just started doing the next thing, like I’d been doing for...god, forever? As long as I’ve been protecting Harry.” She looked at Ginny to gauge her reaction. Ginny was nodding with a look of concern.

“So, once everything calmed down, I think I started trying to see what the next emergency was, and how I could fix the next thing, and how I was needed next. Because all the teachers had been making me the person who needed to be needed. So, suddenly I didn’t have anything that absolutely needed me or people would die, and I couldn’t take it! I needed to be at the center doing everything I could possibly do, and it felt terrible that there literally wasn’t anything that required my presence. Plus, I think I ran out of energy to block out all the terrible things that had happened and that I’d had to do. So, all of that came crashing down on me. Oh, and I realised that it sucked that I’d had to be the one with my shit together all the time and Harry and Ron just got to do whatever they needed to do. Like, I was set up to be their caregiver and they didn’t even notice, really? Dumbledore totally set me up to just be this hypercompetent badass but gave me the just job of just keeping Harry alive? And, Harry didn’t really notice. So, that’s what we fought about that day. It sucked.”

“Merlin’s Saggy Y-Fronts, Hermione! That’s a fucking lot. No wonder you had to get away.”

Hermione snorted. “It wasn’t exactly my choice. McGonagall and Pomfrey decided I could either go, or stay and have my wings clipped with potions and inactivity. Then, someone talked to your Mum about it and she offered to let me come stay here. So, I took the one option I was given that wouldn’t leave me a zombie. At least, it felt like the only option at the time. I’m not sure how else I could have dealt with all of this garbage, you know? I mean, you’re right, it’s really a fucking lot…”

Ginny’s eyes were wide. “Do you want to come watch a dinosaur movie tonight?”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Is it the first one, or the sequel?”

Ginny looked as though she had smelled something bad and her voice dropped to a whisper. “They made more than one?”

Hermione closed her eyes and nodded. “Yes.” She got up and went to the door, opening it and leaning out into the hall to shout down the stairs. “Harry! Is it the first Jurassic Park or the second one?”

Harry shouted back from the kitchen. “They made a second one?!”

Hermione closed the door and turned back to Ginny. “It’s the first one. It was pretty good. I’ll come over. I might just leave at some point. I’ve been enjoying just doing my own thing?”

Ginny nodded again. “I mean, it sounds like you’ve never really been able to just do what you wanted. And, seriously, that is so fucking much, Hermione. I mean, even without being able to see what’s up with the Draco thing, it’s all a fucking lot. No wonder you needed to chop off all your hair…”

Hermione folded herself into the desk chair again and rested her feet on the edge of the bed. “I wish I could talk to you about that, but I have to wait until the trial is over.” She thought for a moment. “Oh! There is one thing I can tell you about, as it has nothing to do with the trial…” She bit her bottom lip and screwed her face up so only one eye was open. “Draco and I had sex.”

Ginny’s mouth dropped open in shock. She shook her head to clear it. “Wow, Hermione… Was it your first time?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, I was doing a thing with Neville for a couple of weeks before I left Hogwarts. He was my first time.”

Ginny’s eyes bugged out of her head slightly. “What?!?!?!!!” Her mouth opened again with a confused lip curl. “Neville Longbottom? Who took me to the Yule Ball? Cut the head off a snake in May? That Neville?”

Hermione’s head bobbed in a silent nod.

“Wow. Not who I’d have thought you’d go for, but I mean, you went straight from the quietest guy in Gryffindor straight to the Slytherin Sex God. Wow, Hermione.”

Hermione shrugged and shook her head. “I mean, that’s not what either of them are like, though. Neville has gotten really fit and he’s such a good guy. I wanted my first time to be with someone I trusted, and I trust him, and I don’t know, it just happened. And, when we’re together, it just feels like I’m a girl, not like I’m some crazy amazing person that has so much to live up to. I’m just Hermione and he’s just Neville.”

She sighed. “Draco is obviously much more complicated. So fucking much more complicated. But, I’m falling for him. And, I think he’s falling for me. At least, he was falling for me, but now I’ve mucked everything up…” She could feel the things she could not say and gave a long groan instead. “Because of the trial. But, we couldn’t have gotten together at all if it weren’t for the trial because he’s got to stay at the castle, and I’m not allowed back to the castle until school starts or something.”

Ginny shook her head with a look of confusion. “Yeah, about that. I’m not sure you’re banned or whatever. I think you should write to McGonagall and let her know what you’ve been up to. Maybe if you told her you’ve seen how rest and relaxing have helped you, you could come back.” A sparkle glinted in her eye. “And, I’d get to see whatever happens when the two new best mates fight over a girl…”

“That’s not how it is, Gin…” Hermione frowned. “Neville and I agreed that if anything started to happen with either of us and anyone else, we’d go back to being just friends. And, I’m pretty sure if something isn’t happening between Ron and Luna, it’s going to start between Neville and Luna. There’s not going to be any fighting over me.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Well, if there’s no fighting, maybe you’ll have a threesome? Those two are certainly cozy together.”

Hermione flicked her wand and sent the pillow to attack Ginny. “That’s what I think of your weird drama, Ginevra!”

Ginny cackled as she fought off the pillow.

Hermione did go to Twelve Grimmauld to watch the movie with them. There was something really hot about Jeff Goldblum in that one. It was like how she saw Neville, sort of. After the movie, she returned to the Burrow where Molly was reading another novel at the table. They made small talk as Hermione made a cup of chamomile for herself and took it upstairs.

It had been really nice to have a space to herself for the first time since she left her parents’ house to go to sixth year. She did not want that to end yet. She could not honestly say she wanted to return to Hogwarts just yet. She did want to return before school started, but everything had been so awful at the end, she just wanted to stay away a bit longer.

She did like Ginny’s idea to write to McGonagall. Maybe she had missed something about why they sent her away. Or, if they had even sent her away?

> _Dear Professor McGonagall,  
>  I wish I had not left Hogwarts the way I did in June. It felt like I had no options, and that everyone just wanted me gone. I’m not sure if that is true anymore. Can you tell me why I was sent away? Or, can you tell me what happened that made it seem to me like I was sent away?  
>  I’ve been trying to rest, and I think I have only really been partially successful at that. I’ve been finding myself realising things about myself and my place in the whole puzzle of Harry & Voldemort that I couldn’t have understood while I was still in the thick of it. Do you think that Professor Dumbledore set me up to keep Harry alive until exactly the right moment? It feels now like everyone’s set me up to be the protector of the Saviour. Does that make sense to you? I’m having a hard time trusting all the authority of Hogwarts that has been instilled in me since I started there at eleven.  
>  I’m not sure what I really want to know. It has been more difficult in some ways to realise the ways I’ve molded myself to fit this role than it was to actually be in that role when I was needed. And, it has been more difficult to find that I both desperately want to be needed and want to never be needed by anyone ever again. Oh! There’s come another realisation. Lovely. I don’t know, can I trust you? I want to, but you were there guiding me to become this person without a word of warning about what it would really do to me.  
>  Kindest Regards,  
>  Hermione Granger_

She sent the letter off that night with Oscar. She considered trying to write to Draco, but she had no idea if she could say anything about what he said in court until it was all over. So, she wrote for herself instead.

> _Did he become obsessed with me because of his father, or was that always going to happen?_
> 
> _If he’s my soulmate, is it because of what happened with his father, or in spite of it?  
> _
> 
> _And, do I even want to know if he’s my soulmate? What if I accidentally look at my string around him and he’s not on the other end? I want to be with him! I just don’t want to also be forced to be with him because of soulmate strings. It’s all so fucked up by his father.  
> _
> 
> _Does he know I lost my shit the night after his testimony? Why hasn’t he tried to contact me as it’s been two days? I just want things to be like they were before I knew all this. He didn’t tell me because he wanted to tell me. He seemed so afraid of what would happen when he testified. I’m sure he knew I couldn’t handle all of this. He probably thinks I hate him again._

And, suddenly, she knew what she could say to him.

> _Dear Draco,_   
>  _I still don’t hate you. Please don’t hate me for leaving and needing to stay away. I need some more of those Fuck Yous back some time. I hope you’re well._   
>  _Still Falling,_   
>  _Hermione_

She sent this one off with one of the Weasley owls. Clearly the trial was still on, but she wondered how much would be left.

Hermione fell asleep long after midnight, the full moon shining bright through the window making her feel slightly less alone.


	18. Mainmast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione feels a bit freer and finds a new project.

July 10, 1998

Hermione awoke to a tapping at her window in the early morning. She let in a short-eared owl that took an owl treat before trilling and swooping back out into the golden morning. The letter bore a new crest, a simple cursive N.

> _Dear Hermione,  
>  It appears that Lucius’s trial will conclude Friday. I hope you’ll join me for tea on Saturday at three, just the two of us. I understand from Harry that you were taken ill after court and are only on the mend today. If you are not up to being out and about, I would be happy to reschedule for a time you are feeling more yourself. I also understand if you need more time to process what you’ve learned. Please know that I want to help in this specifically, as soon as the trial allows us to speak freely. I can see how much the relationship between you and Draco means to both of you and I want to be sure Draco’s father does as little to influence that relationship as possible.   
>  As soon as the trial concludes, Draco will return to Hogwarts to resume his probation there. You may be glad to hear that I was able to get him in to see a Dark Magic specialist at St Mungo’s and she advised us on several treatments that should help to neutralize the effects of the Mark’s dissipation. Healer Simons has sent instructions to Madam Pomfrey about the treatments. Draco said you insisted he take the headaches seriously, yet another thing I am grateful to you for.   
>  Please let me know if you cannot attend or would like to reschedule our tea. And, as always, let me know if there is anything I can do for you. I am at your disposal.   
>  Warmest regards,   
>  Narcissa_

Hermione did really want to see Narcissa. She would be able to tell Hermione how worried she should be. She trusted Narcissa, but she could not tell if that was a good idea or not. She was going with it because she just wanted to trust someone from the other side whose motives seemed clear.

Being awake, she went down to breakfast to the surprise of the elder Weasleys. The Daily Prophet had found nothing particularly interesting to report on that morning as Lucius’s trial was not yet complete and Hermione had been away from court since Tuesday afternoon.

Arthur was complaining about how difficult it was to take the lifts with the trial on. “Everyone just assumes everyone’s going to the courtroom. But, some of us actually WORK at the Ministry. It’s not all Death Eater trials!” He frowned into his coffee and Molly patted his head.

Hermione felt somehow sleepier after her breakfast and coffee and went back to bed for a nap.

Everything felt just slightly off for the rest of the day. She went to a Waterstones for two identical journals and cast the spells to make them duplicate what was written in one to the other. She tested it, then realised that both would show the test, so she had to also find a way to erase and be sure they would both be erased. So, erasing would not be very effective, if it could be managed at all.

She borrowed one of Molly’s wizard romance novels after lunch. This one had a fit quidditch player who was wooing a bookworm. Hermione laughed to herself that this had come out about three months after her stint as the love interest of two Tri-Wizard Tournament champions, one of whom was a fit quidditch player. The story bore no further resemblance to her own life, fortunately.

Just before dinner, she had the odd sensation that she could breathe more easily. She jumped up and grabbed her list of disconnections, running down the hall to George’s room. “George! I need your help!”

His muffled voice from the other side of the door said to come in. She opened the door to find him brewing a potion. “What do you need?”

Hermione held out the page for him to read as he stirred. “Can you read what the first bullet-point says?”

“Draco feels disconnected... Hermione, you have awful handwriting…because he told the truth about his father and I needed to be away from him. Also, he was on a mission to kill me through most of the time I’ve known him - fucking hell, Hermione! and I feel that puts a bit more distance between us than I had thought there was.” He looked her in the eyes. “What the fuck, Hermione!?”

She jumped up and down and squeaked with glee. “The trial is over! I can finally talk about this fucking week!”

George’s eyes were wide with alarm. “I should say you SHOULD talk to someone about this… I can’t believe I vouched for that guy! You should talk to one of those theparists Harry’s been seeing. That’s fucking ridiculous! His father told him to kill you, Hermione?”

Hermione frowned. “Err, yes? He didn’t want to, though. I mean, I need to talk to him about it, obviously. I just, yes, this changes some things? But, I still care about him and he doesn’t want to kill me now, and he didn’t want to kill me most of the time his father was trying to get him to do that?” She stopped. “Uh, I can’t talk my way out of this, can I?”

George shook his head, as an alarm went off to mark some length of time. “I’ve got to finish this up before dinner. I guess that’ll be in the Daily Prophet tomorrow, eh?”

Her stomach dropped. She had not even thought of what a field day Rita Skeeter would have on the entire trial. Hopefully she could get the whole story from Harry. Surely he would come with news on the verdict.

Harry was, in fact, the first person through the floo that evening. He went straight to Hermione and hugged her. “I’m so sorry about everything. I wish I’d been able to be there for you with this. I didn’t want to miss anything, though, and now he’s guilty and never going to leave Azkaban.”

Hermione nodded, feeling suddenly numb again. “How many charges?”

Harry sat down beside her. “There were three instances of Unforgivables they couldn’t find sufficient evidence on, but everything else was guilty. The sentencing was especially brutal on the whole fact that he forced Draco to learn Avada when he was fucking eleven… I can’t even imagine what it was like to grow up in that house, Hermione.”

She nodded again. “Is Draco okay? I couldn’t stay, and I couldn’t go back after his testimony, and I just want to know I didn’t make him hate me.”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t think he could hate you, Hermione. I don’t know for sure, but I think he understands. In order to put away his monster of a father, he told the whole world that his father tasked him with killing the war heroine he’s just started dating. I think he gets how fucked that is. He’s the one who’s lived with that in his head this whole time and it didn’t drive him completely mad.”

“But, he hasn’t liked me this whole time.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “We have no idea what’s going on in that blond head. You’ll have the best chance to find out, Hermione. I haven’t the slightest idea why, but you two seem to be good for each other. For all that his father poisoned him, he couldn’t do it when he had his best chance. I remember that night in the forest after the World Cup. He could have killed us all if he’d wanted to. But he didn’t. He actually warned us off… I think he’s a fucked up guy, but I don’t think he’s any worse off than we are. I mean, I have nightmares constantly. I fucking died, Hermione. You lost your parents, and I know you can’t figure out what to do now, but like, none of us can. I’m sure that’s extra true for everyone’s favorite redeemed arsehole.”

Hermione giggled. “He’s already given himself the appellate ‘King of Arseholes’.”

“God, you’re so weird together.”

She nodded. “Yeah, we are.” She looked down at her hands. “Do you remember the _Ostende Filum_ , Harry?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure my other end is going to end up being Ginny. Why? Do you think Draco is yours?”

She glanced at him. “I don’t have any reason to think it, except how I feel. And, mine went through a solid wall until the Battle. I never thought I’d be able to find the person on the other end, but everything is different this summer, and I feel almost pulled toward where I know it’s all tangled. And, that’s where he has to stay for the next ten months.”

“Wait, yours is tangled up at Hogwarts? Seventh floor? Where Ginny’s is tangled? And mine? And Luna’s and Neville’s?”

Hermione nodded through all the names. “I mean, I didn’t know about yours or Neville’s, and that’s really weird, but the girls and I flew up there to check out where mine had gone through the wall to see if it was free now.”

Harry shrugged. “I guess that explains how Ginny got the idea to go up there. Maybe they’ll make a new dorm up there for the Eighth Years?”

Hermione was fully engrossed in a new thought. “You know that was the Room of Requirement?”

“Yes, of course. I couldn’t forget where that was, or that we were the last ones in it before it was destroyed by Crabbe’s fiendfyre and a giant chucking a boulder into the building. Still have nightmares about that fiendfyre.”

She stared off into the distance, considering how little she knew about magic. “I need to do some research.” She stood suddenly.

“What?” Harry stumbled backward, almost knocked out of his chair.

“Do you think Kingsley would let me use the Ministry library?” She made for the stairs. She needed to write some things down before she lost the thread of her thoughts.

“Maybe? Probably. What just happened?”

Hermione hung gently off the railing to call back down the stairs. “We’re going to rebuild the Room of Requirement!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot stop randomly saying the last line to my partner like Nicolas Cage in National Treasure. 
> 
> Send help. O_o


	19. Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione goes to tea at Black House and writes to Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished rewrites on Part 1 last night! I'll be posting the final chapters on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday next week, and posting the first chapter of Part 2 also on Saturday. 
> 
> Thank you, everyone for reading! Stay safe out there. I love you all.

July 11, 1998

Hermione woke the next morning full of a weird sort of hope. Even if she could do nothing about so many of her current issues, she could do a research project with practical applications!

She spent the morning writing to her friends. If she was right about the strings and the Room of Requirement, she would need to know her friends much better than she did now.

She went to Flourish and Blotts in the early afternoon to see what the current research on the soulmate bond indicated about the energetic potential.

Finally, just on time, she flooed to Black House for tea with Narcissa. A light drizzle had begun outside, and they sat by a window in a yellow drawing room on the ground floor as an elf named Coco served their tea.

Hermione sipped her tea and a smile burst onto her face. “Narcissa, did Draco tell you I like oolong?”

Narcissa smiled behind her cup. “Yes, he did. He was quite intent on finding the best blend while he was in town this week.”

Hermione nearly started crying. “I bought him some of my favourite tea and I keep forgetting to give it to him. Was he alright after Tuesday? I feel so guilty for leaving him like that.”

Her friend reached for Hermione and held her hand on the table. “My dear girl, of course he was not alright, but that was not for you to fix! He would not have been alright if you had come to dinner, or stayed the night, or from anything you could have said. He was not going to be alright, and he knew that. He knew he was going to have to bare his soul about the nightmare Lucius crafted for him, and he was prepared to bear the consequences.” Narcissa released Hermione’s hand and looked out the window. “I was not entirely blameless in this, either, Hermione. We did sincerely think that Harry might be the Dark Wizard we wished would come to right the world. Everything in wizarding society is so insular and recursive, you see. We saw the influx of muggleborn children as a danger to our way of life.” She shook her head.

Hermione sat in rapt attention, barely daring to move.

“I know it’s ridiculous, Hermione. I know. I can see how stupid and short-sighted we were and I regret so much. I don’t mean to make this about myself. I just need you to understand the house that Draco grew up in, and I need you to understand that he was trying to stop that terrible thinking even from that first Christmas home. He had wanted so badly to be friends with Harry because of what we thought he would be. And, although he did stop talking about you after Lucius told him he would have to…” she took a shaky breath, “uh, kill you…”

Hermione cleared her throat. “It’s okay. You should say it. Take the power from it. Draco was supposed to kill me. And, he sort of tried to, once. But, it didn’t work. Because he didn’t really want to kill me. I just want to know if he ever did really want to kill me, Narcissa.”

Narcissa’s face was even more pale than normal. She took a tiny sip of tea that Hermione suspected had just been something to do with her hands. She licked her lip, for a moment looking like a scared teenager. She swallowed and looked up into Hermione’s eyes. “Yes, I think that he did want to actually do it for a time. Lucius poisoned him very intensely to believe that if it were not for you, Harry would be nothing and Draco would be on top of everything in the school. I’m quite certain that if Lucius hadn’t been arrested, Draco would have continued pursuing you as his quarry instead of Dumbledore. Lucius was extremely intent on keeping Draco out of the monster’s direct circle until he reached his majority. But, many things happened without Lucius here that should have gone differently.” She stared out the window again.

Hermione reached for her friend’s hand now, squeezing it on the table. “I don’t know if Draco told you, but he told me how and why he got his Mark. He told me about trying to protect you. It’s awful that happened to you, Narcissa. No one deserves to have their agency taken from them like that.”

Narcissa’s eyes brimmed with tears and she nodded. “Thank you, dear.” She looked at Hermione’s earnest face. “I remember everything and it’s all terrible. He forced me to remember everything BECAUSE it’s all terrible. It’s a good thing I’m a nature occlumens with excellent compartments.”

She sighed. “But, I was telling you about Draco. We necessarily were not close during his sixth and seventh years, but I saw and heard how Lucius tried to mold him until then. And, although I did not want someone to die, I did nothing to prevent what Lucius was doing to Draco, and in turn what Draco was supposed to do to you.

“I think you’re familiar with the type of family my cousin Sirius grew up in? And, you know my sister Bella really believed all of it. I don’t know that I ever thought about whether any of that doctrine was true. I just wanted my perfect family, and Lucius did nothing to endanger that, until the Ministry. She seemed to be grasping for what she really wanted to say, a pained expression twisting her face.

“Hermione, I could not picture the world as it actually was. I only saw a world where power should be hoarded by the people I knew, and where it was being stolen by people I did not know. My naivety and ignorance lasted up to the point that my sister appeared in my bedroom one morning in June to tell me Lucius had been arrested at the Ministry and that the Dark Lord now required the use of our home. I had not met the monster since his return. He was so different than I remembered. You must understand, he was a charming and charismatic man, who I knew to be good to his followers.

“But, what came to live in that house was not the Dark Lord we had known. He was truly a lich, the brought-back version of someone dead. And, he was not good to anyone anymore, only cruel and terrifying.” Her breath was shallow and she had a faraway look in her eyes. “I had no one after Lucius was arrested. They turned Draco to the same path as Lucius, and I couldn’t be sure of what he really wanted his life to be.”

Narcissa stopped, staring out the window.

Hermione peered to look into her friend’s eyes. “Narcissa, have you told this to anyone else before? Any of it?”

The blonde woman shook her head. “I know it’s not up to you to make me feel better for the choices I’ve made in my life. I just, I’m just, I need you to understand why Draco wasn’t who he could have been, who he should have been. He was a sweet boy, and we wanted a child so badly, and I know I should have done more to keep him from being poisoned. I don’t know how I could have done it. He deserved a better father than Lucius, and a better mother than me. Can you understand? I didn’t understand how broken everything was until V--v--, no, I can’t say it, until he came back. I’m so sorry, Hermione. I wish everything had been different.”

Hermione was at a total loss for words. She sipped her tea to have something to do with her hands. Ugh, even cooled now, this tea was excellent, and a credit to Draco’s stupid excellent taste. Refocusing on what Narcissa had said, she considered what the older woman really needed from her.

She took a bolstering breath in. “Narcissa, I can’t absolve you. Nothing about what happened was alright, obviously.” The other woman nodded. “I think you need to talk to someone you trust about this. Andromeda, if you’re friendly again? Or, find other wives of Death Eaters who saw their worlds fall apart when Voldemort returned.”

Narcissa nodded, eyes looking clearer. “Thank you. For the suggestion, and for saying it’s not alright. I’m very tired of people trying to sweep this all under the rug.” She refreshed their teacups. “May I ask you a question, Hermione?”

Hermione nodded and took a sip of her tea.

“How are you feeling about what Draco revealed in court? It was clearly new information to you, despite the closeness of your relationship. I don’t believe you’ve exchanged words with him since leaving court on Tuesday, and I know you had some sort of nervous fit afterward. But, you’re here, and I have to ask for my own edification, what do you want now?”

Hermione sighed. “I try not to think about it most of the time, but of course that fails badly. I want for it to not matter. I find that it doesn’t affect how I feel about who Draco is, but I do worry about what it is like for him to feel what he does for me after his father poisoned him on me so specifically. And, I wonder if he feels how he feels now because he spent so many years thinking about me in horrible ways. I wonder if I’m part of him redeeming himself to himself.”

It was Narcissa’s turn to sigh. “I don’t think Draco will ever feel redeemed to himself, dear.”

An unannounced tear fell from Hermione’s eye and rolled down her cheek. “I want more than anything to be ourselves without our pasts, which I know is not possible. I want to be just Hermione and just Draco. I feel like this makes an extra layer of both of us, and I hate that we can’t just be ourselves--that we’ll never be able to stop dealing with all of this garbage from the war and before.” She huffed. “Narcissa, why was the war a bunch of adults fighting literal children? It’s completely mental.”

Narcissa considered her answer for a moment. “The threat he was trying to fight was not only coming from children. The differences between muggleborn children and natively wizard children are starkest at Hogwarts, though. Hogwarts was everyone’s best chance at Harry, who was certainly the key to everything.” She frowned. “I don’t have a good reason for you, Hermione.”

Hermione frowned. “Hmm, okay.”

“Hermione, I don’t have answers to every question like Draco does. I can’t think that way. I wasn’t ever supposed to have questions, and I certainly was never supposed to think for myself. I’m trying to catch up to everything now.”

“It’s shocking to me how pureblood culture is so insistent on remaining stuck in the past. It’s not as if there have never been muggleborn children coming into wizarding society. Everyone must have come from a muggle some time in the past, so why hate and distrust them?”

Narcissa closed her eyes for a moment and opened them again with a sadness that seemed to come from her very soul. “I don’t know, Hermione. I’m sorry. I just haven’t ever thought of why those are the things we believed. I’m doing my best to be better and understand things now, but I simply don’t have answers for you.”

Hermione sat back in the chair, frustrated and annoyed. She sipped her tea and put the cup back in the saucer so it rattled slightly. “Fine. Can I ask you about something totally different and personal?”

Narcissa nodded.

“Did you break your soulmate bond on purpose, or did something happen to make it break, or did it ‘fray’ and then went away one day?”

Narcissa pursed her lips to the side in thought. “Well, as I’m not certain exactly when it happened, I think it must have frayed. I know that it was still intact in the months leading up to Lucius’s arrest at the Ministry. And, I know that after he escaped, the bond did not feel the same. I don’t know exactly when the bond fully broke. I just know that at some point in the months leading to the Battle, the bond was simply not there, and when I checked with the string charm, the string was not visible to me. I confirmed with an Alithini Diairesis that my soulmate bond had been broken with Lucius and the string is twining with another.”

“What is an Alithini Diairesis?”

“I believe the easiest explanation would be in that muggle saying I’ve heard, ‘Those who can’t do, teach.’ Well, if your Professor Trelawney is the teacher, the Alithini Diairesis would be the doer.”

Hermione thought of Luna. “I think I know someone like that. What does it feel like to have that connection? And, what does the loss feel like?”

Narcissa’s brow arched. “That is a very personal question, my dear. I think the only thing I can tell you is that when that bond exists, it feels like endless fathoms of depth to be explored. The loss by fraying feels like something is being slowly taken from you and you have no way to prevent it, nor do you know what is being taken.” Her voice had lowered and the tone had become guarded.

Hermione nodded and bit her lip. “I appreciate you sharing. I’m sorry to have made you uncomfortable. I never thought I would be able to realise my soulmate bond as my string was tangled and then went through a solid wall. Do most people marry their soulmates?”

“I’m not sure, dear. I know that many people never untangle their string, or like yours, it goes through a solid object. I’m so sorry you’ll not be able to know what it’s like.”

Hermione chuckled uncomfortably. “Actually, that wall was destroyed during the Battle and now the string is tangled and sitting in piles all over the seventh floor by the Room of Requirement.”

Narcissa’s face was awash in confusion with a faraway look in her eyes. “How odd. You’re quite the reader… have you researched what it might mean that you’ve got so much of it all in one place? My string was only ever tangled a little and I knew what I needed to do to move past that tangle.”

“I didn’t know it was unusual to have so much of it in piles like that. Do you think it means something that there are at least five of us all with quite a lot of soul string piled up in the same place?”

Narcissa’s eyes went wide. “Yes, I think it means something, but I haven’t the faintest idea what. Five of you? That’s definitely significant. Would you like to see what you can find out in our library? The move of the Malfoy Manor library was just completed on Thursday.”

Hermione nodded excitedly. “Yes! I thought I would have to beg the Minister to let me use the Ministry library, but I would love to use your library instead! Or also?”

Narcissa’s smile lit her whole face. “I’m so glad! Knowing your penchant for books, I’m surprised Draco didn’t show you the library when you were here Monday evening.” She stood and gestured to the door leading out of the room further into the back of the house.

Hermione blushed thinking of Monday night. “I’ll give Draco hell for keeping me from the books, don’t you worry.”

The next room was tiny with servants’ stairs going up and a second door leading out on the perpendicular wall. There was a window looking out on the back garden. Hermione could see the back kitchen door of Twelve Grimmauld Place.

She pointed out the window. “Narcissa, can you see anything between the house with the roses and the house with the oak tree?”

Narcissa tilted her head and looked. “No? Is something wrong?”

“There is a house there. Twelve Grimmauld Place was the headquarters of the Order and it’s Harry’s house now. You would know it as the Old Black House that belonged to Sirius.” She watched as Narcissa’s perception changed to include the hidden house.

Narcissa’s hand went to her mouth. “I can see the tree we used to climb as children when we visited. I can’t believe it’s been right back there this whole time…” She looked at Hermione. “How could you tell me?”

“It’s been under Fidelius since a bit after Voldemort returned. Dumbledore was the secret keeper and it was passed to all of us when he died. Draco said you’d forgotten where it was, but Joseph’s Pizza is on the same highstreet as Harry’s place, and I know the neighborhood now, better than almost anyone. I knew it must be very near if not directly abutting.”

Narcissa hugged her. “Thank you so much. I thought I would never see that place again. You are full of surprises, Hermione Granger.” She released Hermione.

Hermione shrugged. “I just wonder how little I could have said to pull you into the circle of the charm.”

Her guide turned to the other door and pushed it open. “This is the least I can do to repay you.” She ushered Hermione through the door ahead of her.

The library went up two stories with a vaulted ceiling at the top. There were several large windows that let in the light of the gray day and every single square foot of space along the walls was covered in books. Hermione felt that she had just stepped into the library scene from _Beauty and the Beast_. She slowly turned in place to take in the whole room. It could only have been more perfect if this was Draco showing her the library and she was wearing her Yule Ball dress.

“Can I show you some of the special features of the library? I’d like to convince Madam Pince to implement some of the indexing charms we have here.”

Hermione’s attention snapped to Narcissa as a huge smile spread across her face. “Indexing charms?!”

Narcissa showed her how to ask the map for a subject so the library map on the wall would highlight the shelves to search. There was a massive book that tracked the location of each book, whether it was on a specific shelf that could be sent to light up the map, or a different room of the house, or in the possession of someone outside the house. The map could send a beacon to light the specific shelves or books one wanted to find, and could show different beacons for different searches.

“Please take your time, my dear, and return whenever you like. As I said, it is literally the least I can do for you. The door just there leads back to the hall which leads back to the entry hall. Anything you’d like to take with you, just touch your wand to the cover then to the index book and it will record that you are the current possessor. I’ll leave you to get acquainted with the collection.” Narcissa squeezed Hermione’s arm before disappearing.

Hermione was enraptured. This library was only a little smaller than the Hogwarts library. She was quite sure she could lose years in this room.

And, the time loss began immediately. As she passed the french doors leading out to the garden with an armful of books, she realised it was fully dark out now. The lights in the library had adjusted subtly to compensate for dusk to such a degree that she had lost all track of time back in the stacks. She returned to the large table inlaid with an intricate map of wizarding Britain and set down her quarry to sort through it.

Coco popped into the room. “Mistress has sent Coco to tell Miss Hermione that she is welcome to stay for dinner, or Coco can bring Miss Hermione something to eat here if Miss wants to keep to her research.”

Hermione looked at the large clock standing against a pillar. It was nearly eight o’clock. “I think I’ll take these and go home for the evening, actually. Could you take me to say goodbye to your mistress? I just need to check these out.”

She ran her wand over each book and touched the index book, then placed the pile carefully in her beaded bag.

Coco took Hermione’s offered hand and popped them into a room that seemed to be Narcissa’s private sitting room. It felt the most like her personality of all the rooms Hermione had seen so far. The walls were a lavender with huge interwoven fleur-de-lis in royal purple. The whole room felt like it had been transplanted from a royal palace on the continent. The upholstery matched the walls perfectly and everything was deep shades of purple with lavender and cream accents.

The room’s owner sat with her feet tucked up under herself on a beautiful fainting couch, reading what looked like a muggle gardening magazine. “Ah, Hermione! Did you find anything interesting?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, I did. I completely lost track of time. I just wanted to say thank you and goodbye before I left.”

Narcissa had untucked herself and stood before Hermione to hug her. Hermione was shocked to find that the other witch was far shorter than she had thought. Narcissa was shorter than Hermione by half a head! Hermione looked down to see stocking feet poking out from beneath the robe that pooled at her feet. Narcissa chuckled. “I think that high heels are something muggle women suffer as well, aren’t they?”

Hermione shook her head. “I just always think of you as towering over everyone. It’s never occurred to me that it’s all heels and attitude.”

Narcissa’s eyes twinkled. “I never thought anyone would think I was towering in any way. You’re a breath of fresh air, my dear.” She kissed Hermione’s cheek. “I meant what I said. Please come back whenever you like. The wards will always be open to you. Coco or Mimo can always get you whatever you need.”

Hermione smiled. “Thank you for everything. I’ll see you soon.” Coco led her out into the hall and down the stairs to the floo entrance.

She thanked the elf and returned to the Burrow. No one seemed to be back from Hogwarts yet, so she fixed herself a plate of last night’s leftovers and pulled one of the books from her bag to prop up as she ate. The book was generally about soulmate bonds.

It had always seemed to Hermione that the soulmate bond must be about the person most suited to you for marriage, but in the first three chapters of this book, neither marriage nor love had been mentioned. According to Filius Torksburg, the strings showed you who your energetic equal was. For most wizarding folk, the energetic equal was like the cosine to your sine, and to realize the soulmate bond was to harvest the energetic potential of both wizards.

So, it had nothing to do with Divination! That explained why it made sense to Hermione in a way that nothing in Divination ever had before.

She made a cup of tea in Giant Squids Do It Better and returned to her room. Filius Torksburg moved further into how soulmates could best take advantage of the energetic potential without burning out the soulmate bond. It seemed like he was holding the bond as more sacred than Hermione wanted to think of it.

The next book by Roma Selefene immediately began to describe all the ways to disentangle a soul string. There were many different methods depending on what the tangle was caught on. Hermione skipped forward to the section on strings that traveled through solid objects. Yes, the object must be destroyed, but these connections would be all the more rewarding if the soulmates did finally connect. The phrasing made it sound like it was a sex thing. She rolled her eyes and moved on to another book.

This book seemed to be about how to deal with the loss of a soulmate bond. Rodolph Helles wrote to the people who had never found who their soulmate was, but had lost the ability to see the string. He wrote to the people who had found their soulmate and the connection frayed. He wrote to the people who had purposely broken the connection. And, he wrote to the people whose connection had been purposely broken by the other end. He described the feeling of expectation leaving and the feeling of knowing the bond was gone but that the feelings remained. To Hermione’s greatest interest, finally he described the change in a relationship where the bond was consciously broken with the knowledge and consent of both ends of the string.

> _“The loss of the soulmate bond with the one you know to be your mate will always be painful in some ways. The loss of the feeling of “forever” is most acutely felt. Whether to capture the potential of forever in a single moment or to free the relationship to choice or any other reason, mates who choose to sever the bond have described feeling a lightness of being, and a feeling of dread being lifted. This type of severing is obviously extremely uncommon, accounting for less than 3% of all broken connections surveyed in the writing of this book._
> 
> _“The mates who do choose to mutually sever seem to be no different in their commitment to their mate, and in fact have more in common with the mates who have chosen to consciously twine together after a fraying or severing event with an original mate. The energy of mutually severed mates will never equalize to create the near-perfect balance seen in an unsevered bond, but the energy of each mate can be consciously given and taken as the bond re-establishes itself as the short-bond described in Chapter 6.”_

It was somehow everything Hermione had been hoping to find. She needed to learn more about magical architecture. But first, she needed to finally write to Draco.

> _Dear Draco,  
>  I hope you’re alright. I have so much to tell you. First, I still don’t hate you. I’m starting to feel rather the opposite, actually. I don’t want to write it to you before I can say it to you, though. And, it’s still far too soon. It is so far too soon, but I need you to know it anyway. Just know it. Please just know it.   
>  Second, that other feeling we discussed not discussing… I think I know what it is, and I need you to go to the seventh floor and see if your soul string is sitting in tangled piles like mine is, and like all our friends’ are. I think it’s Significant, Draco. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that all that soulmate bond potential is just sitting waiting to be acted on in the exact place the Room of Requirement used to be. I’m terrified to say what I think we need to do, and I need to do quite a bit more research to be sure and to know how to use the potential, but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what I’m actually thinking. You’re so brilliant, I think you’ll understand.   
>  Third, Merlin’s hairy ball sack, Tuesday was awful! I’m alright now, and I’m sorry I had to go and that I couldn’t talk until now. I think it’s fair to say I didn’t see that coming. I mean, when were you supposed to tell me that? I’m quite glad I don’t have it in a letter to re-read over and over (and would have done, because that’s most of how I spent my time for a week), and I really should not be reading and re-reading that kind of poison. I’m glad also that I could see your face when you said all of it, and saw how disgusted you were about what he had said to you and made you do. I’m so sorry that happened to you. In a totally different way than you’re so sorry Hermione Granger, I’m so sorry in that I’m filled with sorrow at the idea you lost your father in a way that made it seem like he was still your father, but he actually was just sort of a stuffed puppet for his “ideals”. The kind of evil in him is truly insidious, and my heart aches for the dumb arse child you were who needed a true father.   
>  Fourth, I’ve had tea with your mother today. It was fascinating. Did you know she’s actually short? She’s about two inches shorter than me! But seriously, your mother was really lovely to me. I showed her behind the house where Harry’s house abuts the back of her house and I thought she was going to start crying before she showed me the library. Speaking of which, you fucking held out on me, Draco Malfoy! You kept me from that library and I cannot believe you would do such a thing to me! It is the greatest betrayal I’ve ever felt from you. I am only kidding slightly. I lost about 5 hours to that room already, so, the next time I disappear, please send Mimo to retrieve me from the library. I’m certain that’s where I’ll be.   
>  Fifth, are the numbered points getting stupid? Should I stop? Is this the part where I ask a lot of stupid rhetorical questions to see how funny I can get you to be? Do you mind this part? Can we do this part in every letter? Actually, though, are you alright? I’ve been worried about you as much as I’ve been worried about myself and I’m not sure if that’s warranted, although I think you had a panic attack in the middle of the day on Tuesday, and I think this sentence has run its course, don’t you? But, really, what did you need from me? I can’t tell, and I just felt like I didn’t do anything right for you that day. (I just had a sudden urge to punch Albus Dumbledore in the face, which seems like a healthy reaction to wanting to help my boyfriend, doesn’t it? (Yes, that’s right, I parenthetically called you my boyfriend. Would you like to come fuck me about it? I think it would be a great idea, frankly.))   
>  Well, that rather got away from me… I miss you terribly, Draco. Will you be my boyfriend? It seems a very obvious question to ask, but I… sorry, I just got a letter from Professor McGonagall! She said I can come back to the castle whenever I like, I just need to actually have a plan to deal with stress and being given directions. Seems fair enough. I’ll need to figure out how to get that stuff in place so I can get back there.   
>  Anyway, I do want to have titles for each other beyond King of Arseholes and the Golden Girl. I want to be your girlfriend. Honestly, I just want to be yours. Oh, that got very close to saying the three or four or five words (depending on emphasis) it’s too soon to say. You can write to me as often as you want. Every 3 days seems silly and arbitrary now, especially since, OH! I keep forgetting! I did this cool thing where I twinned two journals to show everything written in them in the other one! I’m very proud of myself, although I’m sure it’s a common thing ultimately. I did do all of it myself. I’m sending you one so we don’t have to keep waiting for owls, although Oscar is quite the charmer and you’ll love him. I’m also finally sending along the box of PG Tips I bought you last weekend and forgot to give you on Monday or Tuesday (although, I believe I gave you quite a bit on both of those days, so tea was not really a priority, I think you’ll agree).   
>  Very close again to saying the thing I can’t say, and I think it’s very nearly time for me to go to bed, so I’ll just say,   
>  Boop! I booped you!   
>  ~Hermione_

Hermione felt like she had actually talked to Draco for the first time since Monday. She really loved him. It felt amazing and terrible. Why did literature make it seem like it was always so wonderful? It felt like her insides were going to burst from her chest like in _Alien_. Poor John Hurt.

She put the letter together with the journal, tea, and wine gums and transfigured a little bag from a larger piece of parchment. She charmed the paper to scroll “Draco” like a marquee around the top of the bag. She wished she could see his face when he got it.

She left the bag on the table with a note requesting that someone take it to Hogwarts in the morning, then took a Dreamless Sleep to knock herself out before collapsing in bed.


	20. Capstan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione visits Hogsmeade and relives a brief but significant moment from her past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the penultimate chapter of part 1 (not counting the epilogue). I'm excited to start posting part 2 soon! I have some extras that I can't start posting until about halfway through part 2, because of spoilers, but I'm also excited for that bit of side project to the overall Summer of Strings-iverse.
> 
> cw in this chapter for not-great bdsm etiquette

July 12, 1998

The next morning, Hermione re-read Professor McGonagall’s letter over her coffee. She needed a plan beyond “Rebuild the Room of Requirement” and “Shag Draco Until Numb”.

She went back over her list of things that made her feel disconnected. It felt like the wrong thing to work from.

> _Things that led to panic attacks   
> -Hogwarts A History   
> -being told to do nothing   
> -feelings for Draco   
> -overwhelmed by court?_

She stared at the list for ten minutes and felt that it meant nothing for how to manage any of it.

> _What could I have done to not have the panic attacks I’ve already had   
> -not done the work group in the Hufflepuff dorm   
> \-   
> \-   
> -not sat through court that day_

This was profoundly unproductive. But, she could not just go back to reading about soulmate bonds. She needed to actually be at the castle to do anything useful. But then she thought of how she had really been feeling at Hogwarts. It had been frustrating knowing she could do nothing but what she was told to do. She had had to keep the three of them alive for most of a year! It reminded her of McGonagall’s letter again, so she re-read it again.

> _I do understand that you were put in an impossible position to keep alive the one boy who was most in danger of dying. I understand that I had a large part in putting you in that position, and I wish I had been able to just let you be the best student in decades. I want you to be able to be the best N.E.W.T. student in half a century, and that is why it seemed best to send you on an involuntary holiday.  
>  Miss Granger, when you have slipped entirely beyond my care, you will have to be able to understand when you need a break. You will have to understand your own limits, and I would be doing you a disservice if I did not teach you how to understand what those limits look like._

Hermione flipped over the parchment with the panic attack triggers.

> _Limits crossed per panic attack   
> -book - overtired, worked 3 weeks straight, did not consider what would be in a crushed dorm, did not consider what had happened in uncleared parts of the castle, had not thought of the actual dead on purpose   
> -hospital - overtired, still had no break, did not listen when McG advised I take a break, wanted to do everything in my power to do, could not handle disappointing trusted authority figures   
> -feelings - had not considered I might be starting to like Draco, just left without thinking about what I needed to do or how I was feeling, truly so oblivious to how I was already feeling   
> -court - definitely was purposely not thinking about how I might be feeling about what Draco was saying, took care of Draco at lunch when we absolutely could not talk about it, did not let D & N take care of me at all, did not consider that Draco’s testimony would be about me or how it might change us, tried to be what Draco needed without thinking about what I needed_
> 
> _What’s in common with those limits & what to do about them   
> -overtired - take breaks and naps and sleep at night with potion assistance if necessary   
> -not thinking about how things might affect me before engaging - actually think about how things might feel ahead of time? start with dipping a toe in on things I haven’t done before?   
> -not thinking about what I actually need before what other people need -ugh   
> -just not really thinking about how I feel ever - very ugh and also duh   
> -actively tried to avoid having to think about the Battle and everything else that happened - definitely need to think about what actually happened to others, don’t actually know about what happened throughout most of the castle if I didn’t see it happen myself_

Hermione took a break for lunch and wondered if Draco had gotten the bag yet. She opened the cover of the journal as she munched on an egg and cress sandwich.

On the first page where she’d written _Private Correspondence of HG & DM_, in Draco’s script below, it now also read, _Trespassers have already been hexed and it will only get worse from here if you keep going…_

She turned the page to find that the second page was full already, and Draco’s tiny script was slowly appearing on the facing page. She could not help herself and grabbed her quill to begin dotting i’s and crossing t’s before he could. He interrupted himself in the middle of a sentence with sloppy handwriting _Fucking stop doing that you wench!_ She replied _Fine, take away my fun! Going back to actually read what you’ve written…_

And so, she went back to the beginning of his entry.

> _This is absolutely going to backfire on us spectacularly somehow. First things first, yes, me too. It’s definitely too early for those words, but I do feel them, too. I want to give you those words for the first time in person and at the right time…  
>  Third things second, I hated Tuesday more than most days of my life so far. I wish I had told you some other way first, but I just couldn’t figure out how to tell you beforehand. When was I supposed to tell you that? It’s not like I could just casually slip into conversation that the defining aspect of my relationship with my father for more than 4 years was his desire for me to kill you. It’s part of why I feel I’m sorry Hermione so intensely. Are you fucking alright? I barely remember anything from Tuesday except that you were there and then you weren’t there and I was afraid I’d lost you. And, then Potter, sorry, Harry said you had some kind of nervous fit that night that lasted into Wednesday. Your letter seemed alright, and Mother said you seemed fine.   
>  Fourth things third, did I know how short my mother is? Not especially, I guess. As for the library, how about I make it up to you by letting you sit on my face while you read in there one day? I’ll do that even if it won’t make it up to you. Because I’d love to make you come over and over in your native habit, surrounded by books.   
>  Un-numbered things fourth, will I be your boyfriend? Yes.   
>  Fifth things fifth but in reverse order of questions asked, would I like to come fuck you about it? Yes, thank you, I would quite like to come fuck you about whatever you’d like me to come fuck you about. Being your boyfriend is an especially good reason. Having the sudden urge to punch Dumbledore in the face seems a healthy reaction to wanting to help your boyfriend, doesn’t it? I mean, many of your reactions baffle me, and I did have to find a way to deal with my own unhealthy_
> 
> _Fucking stop doing that you wench!_
> 
> _Fine, take away my fun! Going back to actually read what you’ve written…_
> 
> _You know, dearest darling girlfriend, sometimes you are adorable in a way that makes your dear boyfriend swear and throw his quill across the room then have to go fetch it and explain to your… ex, I guess, why he seems to have been momentarily haunted by bees. Those three words will be coming swiftly with a bit of a vengeance as soon as we can see each other again.  
>  Back to the fifth things, but really what did I need from you? I don’t really know now. I needed you to know first or since I hadn’t told you before that cockroach Rita Skeeter could twist it, I at least needed you to be there when I told the world. I wish I hadn’t needed you that day at lunch because you shouldn’t have to take care of me. But, what did I need from you? Just your presence. I just needed to be able to look into the gallery and see that I had been stronger than I thought I could be because you were alive to hear me say everything awful my father tried to get me to do to you. I needed to see him in a cage and you sitting free.   
>  When you left, I was just disappointed. I wanted to be myself again and be at dinner with you, but you were clearly upset and needed to go, and I didn’t know what to do. I wish I’d reacted better, not like how I followed my training to not react to things I don’t want to happen and can’t control. I’m sure you’ve caught up and are watching me write again. I just want to be near you to tell you I’m sorry. . . . . . . . ._
> 
> _I know you’re sorry, Draco. I know. Can you go to Hogsmead today? I can meet you in Hogsmeade and we could actually talk…_
> 
> _Yes, how soon? And, where? Aberforth still has the Hog’s Head open, but that’s about it._
> 
> _Yes, Hog’s Head. I can be there in 15 minutes?_
> 
> _Perfect. Going now._

Hermione hit herself with the full spate of hygiene refreshing spells and pulled on her trainers. She ran down the stairs and out the door, apparating as soon as she was free of the Burrow wards. It took her three apparations to get to just outside the Hog’s Head. She only had about a minute to spare and looked in the door to see no one inside but Aberforth and a shape hunched over the end of the bar, seemingly asleep.

A voice behind her caught her attention. “Hermione.”

She whirled in place to see Draco with… brown hair? She pointed at his head. “What the hell is that?”

He leaned against the building as he crossed his arms in front of him and arched an eyebrow. “That’s not what you were supposed to say, Granger…”

She crossed her arms back at him so she did not enact her odd urge to slap him. (For what, she could not say. Having the wrong shade of hair?) “That’s too bloody bad, now isn’t it, Malfoy?” She narrowed her eyes at him, her glance flickering up to the terrible color of hair he’d chosen. “You haven’t answered my question.”

He pointed up at his head. “This mess is how I managed to get out of the castle without being spit on. People hate people who tried to kill the Golden Girl, you know.”

“Can you fix it? I cannot stop staring at it. It’s like a car crash. I cannot look away, and I’d really rather enjoy the experience of looking at you, if I can possibly help it. Stupid perfect face.”

“ _Finis_. Better? More like the stupid perfect hair you apparated across Britain to see?” He stepped closer, looming over her, his voice dropping. “I certainly hope it’s worth it for you. It was worth it for me the moment I saw you, Hermione…”

She slipped her arms around his waist. “Even with that awful hair it was more than worth it for me, Draco. I love you so much.”

He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her in and kissing the top of her head. “I love you, Hermione. I love you so much.”

They stood there in the doorway of the pub just holding each other until Aberforth opened the door again. “Come in or go away. You’re scaring away all my patrons.”

Hermione laughed. “Aberforth, are you still mad at us for using the pub as a staging ground for the Battle and not even buying anything?”

Aberforth scowled at her laughter. “Aye, and I’ll be charging this one triple the normal price to make up for it.” He gestured to the now-unmistakable visage of uber-rich former Death Eater Draco. “Call it reparations.”

Draco shrugged, a stupid grin stuck on his face. “I’ll pay.”

They went inside, Draco giving the proprietor thirty galleons for two butterbeers. They sat at the furthest table from the door, each casting a muffliato.

“I’m not going to stop replying to your letter just because we’ve met up while I was writing back, love.”

She leaned forward to kiss his chin. “I wouldn’t want you to stop. I always want all the words you have in there, Draco. I want all the words you’ll give me.”

He looked oddly devastated at that. “I can’t live up to that, Hermione. You know, it was SO hard to know what to say to you when I knew you were looking at what I was saying while I wrote. Writing to you has always been so easy, it just feels like breathing, but after you made your presence known, I was only thinking about how fast I could write and it all felt wrong.”

Hermione frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to change things. What if we leave each other signals on the first page to say when we’re writing? Like, I could write an H in the margin and then circle it when I’m done?”

“Sure, or we could just see that the other person is writing and not go looking until the writing stops? Or, I don’t know, at least not fucking dot the i’s and cross the t’s of the other person to let them know we’re both in there, you monster.” He ran his hand through his hair and sipped his beer. “I noticed you doing that immediately, and it was just the fucking worst. It made my stomach turn. Suddenly I was aware of this thing I’ve just been doing unconsciously since I was about eight.”

She put her hand on his. “I’m so sorry. I just thought I was being funny. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

He turned his hand up to hold her hand in his. “It’s okay. It wasn’t that bad. The end bit where we were writing back and forth when I knew you were there was alright. Maybe we could do that more when we can’t be together.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know what this looks like without the distance, Hermione. I mean, they’ve already written several articles about us in the Daily Prophet. It’s clear we’re something, even if it took until today to say what that something is.”

Hermione tipped her head back and rolled her neck. “I mean, what should we do? Just get out in front of it? Go have a date in Diagon Alley or something? I would say I don’t get why everyone is so interested, but that would be a lie.” Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes. “What? I mean, I think it’s ridiculous that no one sees you were a victim.”

He took his hand away to drink from his beer again. “We should stay as private as we can for now, because I wasn’t entirely a victim, Hermione. I did dark things because I wanted to do dark things at least some of the time.” His voice lowered until she could barely hear him, even in the nearly empty pub. “I did want to do what my father wanted, and now everyone knows what that was.”

She crossed her arms tightly against her body again. “Okay, so, what were the dark things you did because you wanted to do dark things, then? It’s a question, so you have to answer, according to the rules of your own game, Draco.”

His jaw clenched and he breathed several harsh breaths through his nose. “I wanted to kill those animals. I had to want it. And, when the Carrows had us doing the Cruciatus on the younger detention kids, I was always first up. I wanted that hippogriff to die from maiming me, and I gave Father all the information to make it happen. And, I did want Dumbledore to die. I wanted to be the one to kill him.” His eyes were dark and he looked straight at her unflinching.

“Yeah, that’s all fucking terrible.” Hermione sucked her lips between her teeth and stared him down. “Death and torture. But, only the things you actually did count for this one. So, you just loved seeing those eleven-year-olds twisting in pain because of what you were doing? And, the animals you killed, you really wanted them to die, and not just to end your own pain? You just wanted to see the world burn?” Why did she want to know this? Why did she want to hear everything dark and terrible from him?

His eyes were silver daggers and his voice was venom. “I wanted those children to know they were not safe. And, I wanted to do it and be fucking done. I wanted to know I could kill whatever I needed to kill. Not just you, not just Dumbledore, I wanted to be sure I could kill ANYTHING that needed to be killed. There is a part of me that wants to see the world burn. I want it to burn away and burn me up with it.”

She wanted that. It felt like something pure in its destruction. She was attracted to that- the darkness within him. She felt her breathing as it stuttered gently in and out of her lungs. It felt like his eyes could see how much she wanted him in this moment, shining in the dark corner of the pub.

They stared at each other in silence for long enough that the muffliato charms wore off. Aberforth called to them from the bar. “Oy, love birds. You’ll be wanting firewhiskey next? Take the edge off your fight or sharpen you to cut to the quick.”

Draco held up four fingers. Aberforth brought the bottle and plunked down two shot glasses. “I’ll just leave the bottle, shall I, Mr Malfoy?” He curtseyed and moved to go back to the bar.

Draco caught Aberforth’s arm, his voice suddenly earnest. “Please, it’s Draco. Just Draco. Please.”

Aberforth paused for a second, studying Draco’s face. His brow furrowed. “Aye. Draco.”

Draco dropped his hand and poured them each a shot, which they clinked together before knocking them back. Hermione choked slightly and spit some out onto herself.

“No, I can’t drink it like that. Sipping only for me…” She vanished the spit whiskey and poured another glass for herself. “Are we allowed to move on to the part where I apologise for asking those questions?”

Draco took a second half-shot. “Only if I get to apologise for the part where I played the victim by not letting you see me as the victim.”

“It’s a deal.” She put her hand out to shake on it. He took her hand to shake it, then kissed it instead, lingering with his lips on her skin.

She cast the muffliato again. “So, uh, when you were saying all the dark scary things, I think I was extremely turned on.” Draco’s eyes narrowed and his eyebrow raised. “Not, you know, that much, but, uh, some?”

Draco leaned in to whisper into her ear. “So, if the old man weren’t here, and I put my hand down your knickers, I’d find you bone dry?” He watched as she shook her head just slightly, biting her lip. “Or, as you said at first, would I find that you were extremely turned on by the fear of what I can do, Hermione?” Her breath hitched. “Would I find your knickers drenched with you getting ready for me?” She nodded. “That’s just what I want from my beautiful girlfriend. I want you wet and ready to give me those beautiful moans, love.”

He leaned back in his chair again and sipped his firewhiskey, suddenly looking extremely comfortable, whereas Hermione was quite sure she had ruined her knickers as she quivered slightly in her seat. “How do you do that?”

He shrugged and an eyebrow lifted. “You bring out the best in me, love.” He looked past her at the door. “Better pull yourself together, though. Our friends are here.”

Hermione poofed the muffliato and pulled her chair around to sit closer to Draco. She waved to Harry, Ginny, and Neville. She could feel the idea of Draco’s fingers on her skin.

The three joined them with their beers. Hermione took another sip of her whiskey. “Did the work groups end early today?”

Harry nodded. “A bit, yeah. Mostly classroom rebuilding, but also quite a bit of warding. Furnishing is supposed to start this week and McGonagall wants to be ready for the smaller details in at least some of the castle.”

Hermione smiled, thinking of the castle returning to its former self.

Ginny had taken a shot using Draco’s glass. “Ugh, that’s not how you’re supposed to do this, I think…” Her lips seemed to be trying to grimace their way backward into her mouth. “Why do they make it seem like such a good idea in those movies?”

Hermione put her hands up in a surrendering shrug. “I don’t know. I was a swot, remember?”

Draco put his arm around her shoulder. “I think even swotty girls can drink, can’t they?”

Hermione shook her head shortly. A nerve had been touched? She could not pinpoint what was wrong, but it was not right. Even swotty girls should have a night off once in a while to just be girls, but that had not been her life, had it?

Draco leaned in to whisper in her ear again. “Do you need anything, love?” She gave a tiny shrug and a shake of her head. “Should I change the subject?” She pursed her lips and gave a tiny noise of agreement.

He cleared his throat. “Harry, what music should I get? I got this thing in muggle London last week called a CD player, and it won’t work unless you get the music to put in it. I only got three CDs to play so far.”

The three late arrivals stared at Draco as if he had grown two new heads in three sentences. Hermione perked up. “Oh! I can lend you my CD collection! It dropped off a bit after fourth year, but I really love some of that music.”

Harry shrugged. “I think Dudley had about twenty of Now That’s What I Call Music, and that’s really all we listened to growing up. I always liked U2, though. They’ve been around for a while, so you can usually find their stuff in the used bins.”

Draco was clearly profoundly confused. “What’s called music?”

Hermione lurched forward in her seat to put a warning finger in Harry’s face before he could act on the maniacal glint in his eye. She turned to Draco with a smile. “I’ll give you a list later, dear.”

“Dear?!” Harry sputtered. “You’re calling him dear?”

Draco took a sip of his whiskey. “My mother calls you dear, Harry. Are you seeing her romantically?”

Harry was about to spout something when Ginny smacked him in the chest. “Oy, dear boyfriend, we are being supportive, as you may recall…” She turned to Hermione and Draco and smiled. “Pleasure to be seen with you both, really. Many kind pleasureful days to you and your thousand children.”

Hermione raised her tiny whiskey glass to Ginny. “We’re both only children, Gin. I’ll just say you have a much better chance of having the thousand children than I do.”

Ginny narrowed her eyes.

Neville cleared his throat and they all jumped. “Harry was saying something about fixing the Room of Requirement, Hermione. Did you find something?”

Draco squeezed her shoulder. “Well, I know my mother showed her the newly-combined Black-Malfoy library yesterday, and I would bet my frilly knickers she found something interesting on the subject there.”

Neville turned a shade of pink that Hermione recognised. Harry and Ginny both made faces of disgust. Hermione’s eyes squeezed shut in amusement. She was feeling the alcohol.

“Well, I was thinking about how my string is just all over the place up there, in piles and tangled everywhere. I mean, why is it like that? And, Harry said his was like that, too! And, I know Ginny and Luna’s are, too, and Harry said Neville’s was also like that, so I just thought, maybe we’re all supposed to use our soulmate bonds to fix the Room of Requirement or something.”

All of her companions’ mouths had dropped open in shock. She continued. “I mean, Harry and Ginny are clearly mates. And, it’s probably Neville and Luna, and now because of some things that happened on Monday, I think it’s Draco and me, and if I’m right, I think our strings are all leading us to use all that string to recreate the Room of Requirement.” She was excited to be putting this all into words to the most rapt audience she had possibly ever had.

“So, I researched some on soulmate bonds, and what they mean and what they can do. And, it turns out this wizard from Scandinavia, Rodolph Somebody said that there are some magics that can take advantage of the, what was the phrase, ‘capturing the potential of forever in a single moment’.” She smiled. “Isn’t that beautiful?”

Neville frowned. “Wouldn’t that mean the bond has to be broken, though? If you’re capturing the potential? That means the potential is gone.” He looked like he was going to be sick.

Hermione shook her head. “No! No, I’m not explaining it right?”

Ginny’s face was a mask. “I think you’re explaining it just fine, Hermione. Do you think I want to lose Harry? Do you want to lose Draco now you’re so cozy together?”

“No, that’s not what would happen. It doesn’t break the relationship, and it doesn’t change anything in a bad way. Rodolph says that when the soulmate bond is used this way, the string can regrow together in a different way that is also beneficial! If both people want it to regrow that way. It’s a very specific type of thing, and it’s not what you’re thinking.” Hermione could feel herself getting hot and scared. “Please believe me. Please believe me, Ginny. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, and I don’t want you to think you can’t have Harry. It’s just an idea. And, you don’t have to do anything! Please, Ginny, please don’t hate me. It’s just an idea.”

Ginny shook her head. “I just don’t fucking understand, Hermione. You just found Draco, and if he’s it, why don’t you want to keep that?”

Hermione felt tears fall onto her cheeks. She looked at Draco’s face. He looked scared and sad, and was not looking at her, although he gently rubbed her shoulder where his hand rested. “I do want to keep it.” Her voice broke. “I just want it on my own terms, not the terms where I didn’t get to choose for myself that I want him.”

Draco’s breath hitched and his hand stilled on her shoulder. He still was not looking at her.

Neville sniffed. “I agree with Hermione. If we don’t get to choose for ourselves, if magic chose for us, it’s not a choice. I’m pretty fucking sick of destiny. Destiny took away my parents and made Harry an orphan and made Hermione need to send her parents away. If we get to do something to fix the most magical room in the most magical building in Britain, I’m in, no matter the consequences.” He shrank back after his speech, finishing his beer. “Obviously I’d love to still be alive after it’s done…”

Hermione smiled and laughed through her tears. Draco squeezed her slightly. “I’ll need to see your building permit before I commit to anything, Granger, but I trust you at least as far as I can throw you.” Hermione smiled up at him. He was finally meeting her eyes, and they said that he did trust her through his fear.

Harry and Ginny were having a conversation with their eyes but finally broke away. Harry ruffled his hair. “We need to understand it better, but we’ll give you a chance to explain yourself when you get all researched-up… God, is that a word, even?”

They all broke into laughter.

As the sun fell, lengthening the shadows, the group fell into easier banter with each other. Hermione had the sensation of really belonging with these people in a way she had not felt since the night she first slept with Neville. When it became clearly time for dinner, everyone agreed that Hermione should come back for dinner and return to the Burrow with the other Weasleys.

Hermione was a bit anxious, especially as she did feel fairly drunk, bumping into chairs on her way out of the building. The Scottish afternoon had turned windy, and they all felt a touch sobered on their walk up to the castle. Draco seemed only barely affected by the whiskey and was supporting Hermione and steadying Neville when he stumbled.

She could see the affection between the two men. She thought of how Neville had stood up for her at the pub, and how she had not done anything to keep in touch with him when she left. “Neville, how have you been? I’ve been rubbish at writing to you.”

Neville’s mouth curled up at the side in a small smile. “I’m alright, I guess. Do you know when you’ll come back?”

“I got a letter from McGonagall yesterday that I think means I can come back whenever I feel like I’m ready? Maybe I’ll try to talk to her tonight. I think I should stop taking advantage of Molly’s hospitality.”

Ginny twirled to stare at her. “Is that what you think you’re doing? Mum loves having you around, even if you’re having fits or running off wherever or holing yourself up in my room sleeping or writing endlessly to this tosser.” She held Hermione’s shoulders and stared carefully into her face. “She just wants us all where she can keep an eye on us, ‘Mione. She lost one of us and had to watch two others be horribly maimed, plus she thought she’d lost several more of us at various points. You may not want her as a parent, but you bloody well ARE one of her children, so there is no hospitality to take advantage of.”

Hermione sniffed and nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Ginny turned to Draco, putting her finger in his chest. “Careful, you’re next if you don’t watch out.”

Draco put his hands up in surrender. “Sure, Weaslette.”

Ginny looked for a moment like she was going to tell him off, but then her head moved in a tiny circle that looked like dizziness and suddenly she doubled over, emptying her stomach on Draco’s shoes.

Draco vanished the sick as Harry led her away rubbing her back. Hermione, Draco, and Neville all wandered away to give the couple some privacy for Ginny to recover. “I guess I should retire that nickname, then?”

Hermione smacked him lightly in the chest. “I would say so, darling.”

Neville smiled. “I’m glad you two finally decided you’re together. It was exhausting nudging you closer.”

Hermione smirked. “You have that in common with Draco’s mother. Well, that’s just one of your similarities, really.”

Draco shook his head. “No, you’re not starting this again.”

“She’s actually Mrs Black-Malfoy currently, until the divorce is finalized. But, I’m sure she’ll say, ‘Please, call me Narcissa’ when you first meet.” Hermione felt extremely pleased with herself to have this not-very insider information.

Neville shook his head and turned a sort of pinkish-green. “I couldn’t call her that.”

Draco clapped him on the back. “Stay away from my shoes, mate. And, yes, you would call her whatever she asked. You wouldn’t have a choice.”

Neville looked more upset by this notion than he had looked with the flaming Sorting Hat on his head.

They reached the castle finally without further incident. Hermione did like the idea of talking to McGonagall that day if she could. Neville wanted to see if he could get a Pepper Up potion, which sounded like an extremely good idea to Hermione, too. Draco went straight to dinner as they made their way to the hospital wing.

The wing was mostly empty but for a middle-aged man sitting in one of the beds grimacing as his forearm grew a new bone. Madam Pomfrey sat in her office writing in a log-book.

“Ah, Mr Longbottom and Miss Granger, it’s been a while. What can I do for you?”

Neville clutched his stomach slightly. “We’ve been down to the Hog’s Head. Could we have some Pepper Up?”

She refrained from giving them a hard time or denying them the sobering potions. Hermione found it difficult to make eye contact with the Healer, choosing to stay slightly behind Neville until she actually took her potion. When they thanked her and were about to leave, Madam Pomfrey asked to speak to Hermione privately. Neville looked torn. Hermione thought she might burst at how sweet he was and nodded to him reassuringly that she would be okay.

She returned to Madam Pomfrey’s office and sat facing her as the door closed behind her. Madam Pomfrey sat behind her desk and looked extremely official. “Miss Granger, I wanted to speak to you about what happened two weeks ago.”

Hermione nodded, somehow fearful of being seen.

“There is a condition that muggles have had different names for over the past century and a half that currently goes by the acronym PTSD. We Healers have been struggling this summer to understand best how to treat the people in our care who seem to have no physical illness, but who are having what I have heard described best as ‘freak-outs’. Your panic attacks were certainly related to this PTSD condition, Miss Granger. There are many symptoms of this condition, and there are few well-understood treatments for it, I’m sorry to say.” She sighed.

“What I wanted to say to you about that week before you left is that we did not know how best to help you, dear. We have jobs to do this summer, and unfortunately that did not seem to include helping teenagers suffering so-called ‘mental illnesses’ that we are not equipped to treat beyond Calming Draughts and sleep potions. I am sorry for how I personally treated you the day you were assigned here to do triage.”

Hermione nodded. “What are you doing about all the kids who are going to come back with this condition? I can’t be the only one.”

“Yes, you are certainly far from the only one. We are interviewing psychologists who are muggleborn, family of muggleborns, and from the squib community. We are coming to understand that everyone in the wizarding community probably has PTSD to one degree or another due to the atrocities witnessed by us all in the past three years at least. We as a community have been sweeping mental illness under the rug for much of our history, and this is simply affecting too much of society to continue doing that. You and a few others were merely the first wave of what is sure to be an epidemic when September comes. I am sorry we treated you as if you were doing something wrong. None of this is something you are doing on purpose, and we did you an extreme disservice in sending you away like that.”

Hermione cleared her throat. “Actually, it was better for me to go. I did need a break and a rest. If I had kept going like I was, I would never have thought about what I was really thinking and feeling. It would only have gotten worse. I have some issues with needing to be needed and hating that about myself.” She took a deep breath. “I do think I’d like to come back soon, but I also don’t know that I won’t have more reminders of everything I’m struggling with.”

Madam Pomfrey nodded. “I think that is part of why our weekend volunteers have reduced over the weeks. Many people are having the same problem of not wanting to be reminded of specific things they can’t stop remembering once they start remembering. I can’t imagine what it will be like when the rest of the students return.”

Hermione nodded. “Everyone who stayed to fight will only be able to see how everything was after the battle.” She huffed. “The whole first month is just going to be a bloody lost cause for learning anything.”

The healer let out a small sigh. “Just like the whole of last year…”

Hermione frowned and said nothing.

“Miss Granger, when you return, I hope you’ll come see me for what little I can give you to ease your way through this difficult summer.” She rose from her seat and Hermione did the same, understanding it was her signal to leave. Then, Madam Pomfrey drew her into a hug before letting her go. “I really am very very sorry, Hermione. Please take better care of yourself than we could.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, I will, Madam. I’m already feeling much better.” She felt her eyes threaten tears again.

She finally escaped, finding Neville sitting on the floor in the hall outside the hospital wing. “You didn’t need to wait for me, Neville! You should have gone to get dinner.”

Neville shook his head and pulled his gangly frame to standing. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay after whatever she was going to say. You were pretty upset last time you were in the hospital wing, so I just thought I’d wait in case you needed someone.”

She smiled at him, truly touched. “Thank you, Neville…” They started down the hall at a leisurely stroll. “So, I’m sorry I said it was probably you and Luna. Have you made any progress with her?”

Neville shook his head. “No, I feel like it’s true, but I don’t really want it to be anymore. I’m not sure what I want, if I’m honest.” He glanced at Hermione. “And, you’re with Draco now. He said you’d been over to his on Monday before everything went sideways at court the next day. Does that mean…?”

Hermione blushed and nodded. She looked up at him. “I’m so confused, Neville. I love him. Already. It’s mental. I just feel like this thing with him is inevitable, but I still want to be able to choose him. I want to have it not feel like it’s going to be this no matter what I do. And, saying it out loud, it just sounds crazy.”

He shook his head. “No, that makes perfect sense, Hermione. The choice is as important as the outcome. It feels a bit like Luna is also trying to make a choice. I wanted to find a way to ask her out or do something to get her to notice me that way, it just feels like I missed some chance or something and now nothing we say to each other feels right.” He sighed. “Plus, I don’t want to have to compete with Ron, you know?”

She let out an involuntary snort. “Between you and Ron, there’s absolutely no way to compete. You’re so different.”

She had disappointed him, she could see it. “But, Neville, no, I mean, you were just what I needed. I could have had whatever I wanted from Ron, but he wasn’t what I needed… And, with Luna, maybe he’s what she needs right now, but that doesn’t mean it’s a competition between you two for her heart, Nev.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Yeah, I get it. I know if it was going to be me right now, it just would be.”

It pained her that he was in pain about this. He deserved only good things. She had another twinge of sadness that she had not written to him from the Burrow.

She linked her arm with his. “If it wasn’t Draco for me right now, it would be you, Neville.” He looked down at her in confusion. “Yes, really. Neville, you’re an incredible man.”

Neville blushed and looked away. “Thanks, Hermione.”

They entered the Great Hall then, and spotted Draco waving them over with a big smile and a twitch of his eyebrows. “Keeping Neville all warm on this chilly July evening, Hermione?” He winked.

She had no idea what to make of this and lowered her voice to the ghost of a whisper as she took the seat next to him. “Are you jealous? We’re friends.”

His eyes and smile showed no vitriol as he replied in a similarly quiet whisper, “No, not jealous. Just flirting with my girlfriend and friend.”

She searched his face. “Both of us?” She bit her lip.

He raised an eyebrow and nodded.

Her eyes went wide and she could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks.

Neville was confused again. “What’s wrong?”

Draco quirked his mouth in a smile and passed the shepherd’s pie to Hermione. “Nothing, just making clear how I feel about something unexpected.”

Neville rolled his eyes. “Is this like when you screamed fuck and chucked your quill across the room this afternoon?”

The two men chuckled and Draco looked oddly smug as he replied. “Yes. It’s sort of the opposite of that, but on a different axis.”

Hermione could not stop thinking about Draco flirting with _both_ of them. Both of them? What the fuck was that about besides chaos?

She watched them interact through dinner. Draco did seem to be flirting with Neville in much the same way he flirted with her. And, Neville seemed to be flirting back in his own way, as much as he flirted with anyone. They were all bantering back and forth in such an easy way, Hermione felt herself quickly adjust to the dynamic of sweetness and saltiness between the three of them.

As dinner seemed to be concluding, Hermione broke away to find Professor McGonagall eating with Molly and another mother Hermione did not recognise. She sat down quietly and waited as this mother finished her audience with the headmistress on the subject of security for the upcoming year. Finally, the woman excused herself and the professor turned to Hermione with a smile.

“Miss Granger, I’m so happy to see you this evening. We have missed you, and Molly has been telling me about how much better you seem to be feeling.”

Hermione nodded, feeling suddenly quite a bit more like a student than she had been for the past few weeks. “Yes, thank you, Professor.” She took a breath. “I was hoping to talk to you about your letter. I spent the morning working on thinking about what you said and making some lists of how I can do a better job at not having the panic attacks. I just want to be better at this so I can come back and no one has to worry about me.”

Professor McGonagall frowned. “My dear, that was not what I intended from my letter, although in retrospect, I’m sure it came across as an assignment. You don’t need to fix this before you return. My hope is that when you want to return, you’ll let us all help, and help us in turn. We are all of us struggling to find our places and purposes again. No one can do it alone, Miss Granger.”

Molly put her hand on Hermione’s. “There’s no rush to leave the Burrow, I hope? You are welcome to stay as long as you want or need, love.”

Hermione held Molly’s hand. “No, I’m just missing everyone else so much.”

Molly raised an eyebrow. “Everyone? Not just one boy?”

Hermione blushed. “I mean, yes, obviously him. But, Ginny and Luna and Ron and Neville, too. And Harry on the weekends, and Seamus and Dean’s antics. Not just him…”

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips in a way that made it clear she was hiding her own amusement. “Miss Granger, please feel free to come back whenever you like. And, feel free to leave whenever you like until the term starts. I believe some people have been treating the castle as a prison for survivors since the beginning of the summer, and I would like that to stop.”

The Headmistress paused, considering her words. “With that in mind, I have already contacted the Ministry to connect a fireplace in each common room to the Floo Network for students’ exclusive use. It seems to me that it would be a benefit for the coming year if returning students could make floo calls home when they need to see or hear their families, or even go home on a weekend now and then.” She looked expectantly at Hermione and Molly. “I tell you in order to solicit your opinions, ladies…”

Molly smiled widely. “It’s a wonderful idea, Minerva! It’ll be such a good thing for the children.”

Hermione nodded. “If it’s possible, it might be a good thing to have a telephone installed, as well, for the muggleborn students.”

McGonagall nodded and made a note on a clipboard. “There is actually a phone installed in the kitchens. I shall see what can be done to move it for student use. Thank you, Miss Granger, this is exactly the sort of thing I meant. If you have any other ideas to improve the experience of the muggleborn students, I would like to hear them, but for this evening, I am rather anxious to turn in. It has been a very long day.” She smiled at Hermione and touched her arm as she rose to leave. “As I said, Miss Granger, please come and go as you like.”

Molly rubbed Hermione’s hand between hers. “I’m glad you’re out and about again, dear. We’ve been worried about you, but you do seem to be feeling better. You seem less frantic somehow.”

Hermione nodded. “I guess I’m not? We were down at the Hog’s Head most of the afternoon.”

Molly chuckled. “Well, that’ll do it.” She sighed. “I think I’m going to head home now, too. I won’t stay up expecting you tonight, dear.” She winked.

Hermione squeaked, feeling her face turn red. “Okay! Goodnight!”

She turned around to see if she could find her friends. Only Draco was left, writing on a piece of parchment alone at their table. She sat down on the bench next to him with her back to the table. “Good evening, boyfriend.” She kissed his cheek.

He bumped her shoulder gently and rolled up the parchment with the quill inside before slipping it in a pocket on the side of his jeans. “What did McGonagall say, girlfriend?”

She bit her lip. “Well, she said I can come and go as I like until the start of term.” She smiled. “And, Pomfrey told me she will have some mental health resources to treat us all from our war trauma soon, as well.” She put her chin on his shoulder. “I’m glad I came out today. I was planning to just stay in all day reading the books I got from your mother’s house. But, I just needed to see you, Draco.” She sighed contentedly. “I still need to see you, Draco.”

He nodded and rested his head against hers. “I know, me too. I read your letter and it was like the cure for this week. I really liked how you made the bag scroll my name like that, too. And, that tea wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” He kissed her cheek and she let out a little giggle. “Can we take a walk? I’d love to get you alone in the dark, my love.”

She giggled again and jumped up. “Yes, please!”

They went out and strolled through the grounds in the golden light of the sunset. “So, you really think we can use soulmate bonds to restore the Room of Requirement?”

This was not the fun banter Hermione had been hoping for. “Yes?”

“And, this is what you were so excited about in your letter?”

“Yes.”

“Is it because of my past? Because you want me, but you don’t want that kind of bond with me, if we are connected?”

She shook her head. “No. I just, I want to feel like I’m choosing you, Draco. I just want to feel like I’m making choices about my life and how it will go. But, this doesn’t feel like a choice I’m making. It feels like it was weirdly inevitable, and I’ve been doing things that feel like I didn’t have a choice for years.”

Draco’s voice had an edge. “That doesn’t make any sense, Hermione. You want me, but you want to choose me. You feel like it’s inevitable and you love me, but you don’t want to have me the way soulmates usually do. It’s just, it’s like you’re going around in circles to justify keeping me in this weird box where we’re together, but only on your terms.”

“Well, I want you on your terms, too, though. What do you want?”

He sighed. “I want you to want me.”

She smiled. “I do want you.” She chuckled. “You know, that’s a lyric to a really good song.”

“What is?”

She sang the song. “ _I want you to want me, I need you to need me, I’d love you to love me, I’m begging you to beg me…_ ”

He wrapped his arms around her waist as the sun fell behind the mountains. “Yes to all of that. That’s how I feel. Can I get that on a CD?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting her fingers run up into his hair. “Absolutely. What can I say to make you feel better? I promise I won’t say anything that’s not really true.”

He kissed her forehead. “I think I just want to know you’d choose me if we broke the bond. I’ve just spent so much of my life thinking about you, I don’t know how I would stop now. And, I don’t want to lose you just because it’s a cool idea to restore the Room of Requirement…”

She nodded. “Well, according to Rodolph Whatshisname, mutually choosing to sever the string is totally different than any other breakage. He said that when the mates remain together after severing, the bond twines back together in a different way that is also mutually beneficial and acts in many of the same ways as the original bond.” She held him closer, laying her head on his shoulder. “It means something to me to get to choose you, Draco. Please, let me choose you.”

Draco made a rumbling sound in his chest. “I don’t know how you make that sound so sexy. If you keep saying it like that, I don’t know how I can say no, Hermione.” He dipped his head and caught her lips in a kiss. She responded with a moan, deepening the kiss. He clutched her waist more firmly against him, and she finally felt really right for the first time today.

As she slid her hands down to begin unbuttoning his shirt, he stopped and held her hands. “We are not shagging in the middle of the lawn by the lake.” He raised an eyebrow in the fading light. “I think one of the greenhouses or in a patch of bushes would be better.”

Hermione bit her lip. “Is it alright if it’s the same place I did it with Neville before?”

“Is he going to join us?” He waggled his eyebrows. “But, really, like I told you before, as long as you want me, I don’t care what you did before. As long as I get to fuck you, I don’t care who else fucked you in that location, Hermione.” He ran his hand up to gently squeeze her breast for emphasis.

“Okay, the greenhouse is good, then. We can lock the door and muffliato.” She pulled him by the hand to head in that direction. “And, what is with you and Neville? If I didn’t know any better, I would think you like him…”

Draco was silent for a moment. “Well, I don’t NOT like Neville. I’m not exactly exclusively attracted to women…”

“Oh. Ohhhh… But, you are attracted to women? Specifically me?”

“Yes! You more than anyone, Hermione. You have featured in more of my desperate fantasies than anyone.”

“Oh, really? Hmmm… Who was number two?”

He snickered. “Don’t think anything of it, because I’m definitely over it, like, entirely over it, but,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “Potter…”

Hermione cackled for a solid half minute. “Seriously?! God, I should have guessed!”

His voice was haughty. “Well, you don’t have to be like that. I was bloody obsessed with him for years, of course my fourteen year old fantasies got involved.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Don’t tell me anything about Harry, but what did your desperate fantasies of us look like?”

He paused. “Hmm, well, I think the day you slapped me was the most erotic thing I’d ever experienced, somehow. In my fantasies, you were always slapping me then kissing me. And, you’d start rubbing yourself on me, pulling my cock out to wank me off. Or, you’d push me down to service you while you told me what a tosser I was.”

They arrived at Greenhouse Two and slipped inside, Hermione locking the door and immediately casting several muffliatos. Draco stayed in her space by the door, holding her against it when she turned back to him. “But, more recently, I think of being in control, seeing you helpless beneath me as I pull pleasure from your body over and over…”

Hermione whimpered. “When you said that in the pub today, I fully ruined my knickers, Draco. I was turned on by that fear. I want that fear and darkness. I want to see what you can do to me. I think there’s something wrong with me… I want the darkness, Draco.”

Draco caught her mouth in a searing kiss, pressing his erection into her stomach. She moaned into his mouth, running her hands up his back under his shirt. He pulled back. “Not everything all at once, but fuck, I want to let it out a little, love.”

She smiled and pulled him closer again. “I’ll tell you if it’s too much, but I…” Her breath hitched, thinking of everything he had ever told her. “I think the darkness is part of what I love about you, Draco.”

His cock twitched against her. “Fuck, that’s hot. The fact that you won’t flinch from that darkness is part of what I love about you, Hermione.”

He kissed her again and her whole body felt like it was burning like a red hot poker. He pushed her tshirt up to the neckline revealing her bra. One hand went around the back of her neck, with his thumb tracing along her jawline and the other moving down to cup her breast, pulling it out of the cup of her bra to knead and pinch the nipple to a point. His mouth never stopped moving, caressing her tongue with his, or nipping lightly at her tongue or her lip before his mouth left hers whimpering again as he left kisses down her chin to suck at her pulse point while she made tiny keening noises in her throat.

He pulled her other breast out of her bra and paid it the same attention so when Hermione looked down, she could see her nipples standing at attention for him. He took one in his mouth, sucking gently, then harder and harder until Hermione cried out and clutched his head. “Unnhh!”

He stopped, massaging her nipple gently with his hand. “Was that too much?”

She shook her head. “No, I liked that. I want more of that. Don’t hold back if that’s what you want, Draco…”

He grabbed her hand and cupped it on his tented trousers. “It’s just the beginning of what I want, beautiful.” He held her hand and rubbed himself through the fabric to show her how hard to hold him there, then returned to her breast, pulling the nipple back to a point and repeating the previous sucking process on the other side.

Hermione found she relished the experience of giving in to Draco’s handling of her body. She cried out again when he sucked harder and used his teeth a little roughly on her nipple. The pain felt unlike any other pain she could remember. Every time she whimpered or cried out, she could feel his cock twitch as she rubbed up and down the length through the canvas. He dropped to his knees and her hand fell back, tangling in his hair again while he unbuttoned her jeans and unzipped the fly, pulling them off her, one foot at a time. He looked up at her, glowing slightly where the moonlight hit her. She looked utterly wanton with her breasts on display for him, smiling and biting her already kiss-puffed lips.

He kissed just below her navel. “Pinch your nipples for me, just enough that it hurts, love…” She complied, twisting lightly to keep the pain going and feeling the light pain spikes back to her rib cage. “Mm, I can see how much you’re enjoying riding the line between pleasure and pain, Hermione. If I spanked you, do you think you would enjoy it?”

She twisted her nipple a little as she thought. The idea of being hit did not sound specifically good, but maybe she could have something in return. “You can spank me, if I can slap you again. I did want to slap you today, and knowing you’ve fantasized about it was really hot.”

Draco kissed just below her navel. “Yes. I would love to go to breakfast tomorrow with your handprint on my face.” He pulled her knickers to the side and ran a finger gently along her slit.

“Well, I’m not going to let you leave without healing… ahhh! you…” Two fingers slid inside her, scissoring at their deepest. She seemed to be squeezing her nipples in reaction to his fingers inside her, heightening the feelings in both places.

“Your pussy is already so wet and ready for me… It knows it needs my cock, doesn’t it?”

She whimpered as he worked his fingers in and out of her. “Y-yes, I can’t stop thinking about your cock inside me again.”

“Mm, I like hearing you need me. I want to give you what you need, Hermione. I don’t think you’ll be as satisfied as possible with just my fingers, will you?” He fluttered his fingers in the crooking motion.

“Noooo, no, I need your cock.” She could feel her hips moving in a rocking motion with his fingers. She wanted him so badly, she could barely think.

“Fingers first, then you get my cock. When do you want to slap me, Hermione?”

“Right before I come the first time.” Odd that she had that answer without having to think.

Draco moaned and kissed her over her knickers again. “That was possibly the hottest answer to any question ever. You’re going to be the death of me.”

She smiled. “You know, you could put your mouth to better use if you pulled off my knickers?”

He did just that, vanishing them to the pile with her jeans and pulling her leg over his shoulder. He spread her pussy lips and ran his tongue up and down until he found her clit with his tongue, swirling it before sucking gently. His fingers found their place inside her again, pumping slowly but firmly in and out, with the crook at their deepest.

God, his mouth felt incredible. She pinched her nipples harder as she found herself building and building to that peak. Just her and just Draco, his mouth licking and sucking, swirling as her body tensed. The hand that held her open for his mouth went up to her pelvis and pressed firmly with the flat of his palm. She felt the change in angle of his fingers as he kept them inside and crooked against that spot inside.

She put her hands on his head, pulling it away from her body. He nodded up at her with glassy eyes and crooked harder with his fingers and her hand connected with his perfect stupid cheek and she reached her peak with a guttural moan.

She felt like she was going to collapse, but his hand supported her against the door, firmly keeping her from toppling over. He slowly withdrew his fingers as she came down, then drew her down so she could sit in his lap as she recovered. He kissed her again and held her against him. “Someday I may be able to climax from just you slapping me, darling.”

She laughed, still catching her breath. “I mean, I sort of just actually did come from slapping you, so if we could get you to that point, we’d be able to achieve that most elusive creature, the simultaneous orgasm.”

He smiled into her hair. “I bet there are spells that could do that for us.”

She shook her head. “That’s cheating, isn’t it?”

“No sexual aid should be considered cheating. Don’t girls both magical and muggle have all kinds of toys they use? Is any of that cheating?”

Hermione pushed back to look at his face. “How did you get so sexually liberated?”

Draco looked incredulous. “I don’t know, there was enough backward thinking in my childhood. I don’t really want any of that in my adult life, so I decided I’m pro whatever my upbringing decided was too modern. Within reason, of course. Plus, on the subject of toys, they can do an awful lot of things I cannot do, and I would really like to see how many different notes I can pull out of you when you come…”

She giggled. “What about you? Will I get to use these toys on you?”

“Yes, of course. I want you to do anything you want to me. I have few hard limits, most of which I doubt you would want to do anyway…”

She hummed as she considered what she might want to do to him. She must have started rocking against him because she found she was starting to feel her peak trying to build again. He was gently kissing her neck and drawing patterns on her back with his fingers.

“You know, you’re still awfully dressed for how much you’ve been talking about putting your cock in me…”

He made a noise of agreement. “If you get a tarp to put down, I can make these clothes disappear…”

She reached for her wand and accioed a tarp, spreading it on the dirt and finally removing her trainers to kneel on it. She watched Draco with excited anticipation.

Draco was lit in moonlight from behind, making him look like an angel of shadow. He did his undressing in a leisurely fashion, pulling off his shirt, , then trousers and shoes, palming his erection through his shorts. then pulling them down to pool at his feet before he stepped forward onto the tarp and ran his thumb over Hermione’s lips. His cock was _right there_. She had not been so close to it with her face before. She opened her mouth to bite her lip, but his thumb slipped past her lips instead and she could taste herself on him. She licked at his thumb and moaned a little. “You like the way you taste, beautiful?”

She nodded, lips pursed around his finger.

“You would look beautiful sucking my cock, too. Maybe I’ll let you suck it if you’re very good next time…”

Her pussy clenched and she nodded.

“Would you like to be my good girl or my bad girl, Hermione?”

Hermione considered and let his thumb go with a little pop. “I don’t understand.”

“Let’s talk about it more later. Now, you said I could spank you if you slapped me. Does that still sound okay?”

Her pussy clenched again. “Yes!”

“Okay, I’m going to cast a cushion charm and you should face away from me on your knees with your head down.” He said a couple of spells.

Hermione complied, turning and bending over with her arse in the air. Draco adjusted her knees so they were about shoulder-width apart, running his hands up and down the inside of her thighs. She could feel herself trembling slightly, her pussy trying to find something to clench down on. She felt so exposed like this. What was he thinking? He could see everything!

“Draco, I think I need you to keep talking while I’m like this…”

“Oh, I can do that, beautiful… I’m loving your arse.” He ran his hands up over her backside then out and down her hips. “And the fact I can see how your pussy keeps contracting when I say something you like…” He ran his hands up her thighs, catching her pussy lips with his thumbs to open her fully. “I can see exactly where I keep putting my fingers to make you make those sounds I love.” She involuntarily rocked back a little at the memory. “I know you love my fingers. But, now it’s time to see if you like them a different way.”

Hermione made a noise of agreement in her throat.

“I’m going to start with five spanks. We’ll breathe between them, and if you want me to go harder or softer, just say so.”

“Yes, okay…”

He rubbed firm slow circles on the globes of her bum, then his touch disappeared and…

Whack! It sounded much louder than it felt.

“Oh, your bum made a lovely jiggle there.” He rubbed her firmly but gently where he had hit. “Do you want softer or harder, love?”

She wiggled slightly. “Harder?”

“Okay, number two, then.” His hand left the place it was rubbing.

Whhhack! That definitely stung a bit. She clenched, but mostly from being startled.

“Mm, I liked that one. Stung a bit, I bet?” Again he rubbed those slow firm circles where the blow landed.

“Yes, but you can go harder.” She was just starting to see how this was fun.

“Number three…”

Wh-crack! “Fuck!” His hand covered where he hit and he massaged the globe of her bum.

“Still okay? Do you need it softer again?”

No! This was such a strange mental sensation, she needed to chase it. She shook her head. “No, I really liked that one. I don’t think I could have started with it, but it felt good somehow?” She lifted her head and turned a little to look at him behind her. “Draco, I’m kinky?”

His face shattered in a fit of laughter. “Yes, you lovely bint… you came from slapping me. I would say you’re definitely kinky.”

She laughed and put her head down again. This was so absurd, but she was loving it in a way she could not have predicted. “Can I have number four at the same level?”

“Number four…”

Wh-crack! Hermione produced a deep grunt and took a deep breath as Draco massaged the spot.

“Draco, can you do more than five?”

“Yes, but no more than ten this first time.”

“Six more sounds really good…”

Before she knew she was ready, he delivered, and his voice had that edge to it.

“Number five.”

Wh-crack! “Fuck!

She felt her pussy clench. She realised he had stopped narrating. What was he thinking that gave the edge to his voice? She wanted to feel the feeling of diving into the cool waters of his words as he lit her aflame this way. “Give me the darkness, Draco.”

He practically growled. “With you bent over like this, just giving yourself to me, I could do almost anything to you, Hermione. Number Six.”

Wh-crack! She cried out and found she was clutching the tarp.

“Having you like this shows me the power I have over you. I can give you pleasure or pain, and the choice is up to me. Number Seven.”

Wh-craaack! She cried out again.

“I’m choosing pain now because I want to hear you screaming, Hermione. I want to leave you trembling and wondering how much more I could do to you. Harder or softer?”

“Harder!”

“Number Eight.”

Wh-craaaaaack! She screamed. “Yes!”

“And, when you don’t know if I’ll really stop at ten, I’m going to pound my cock into this dripping pussy and let myself lose control entirely. You’ll be full of my come and you won’t be able to move, Hermione… Harder or softer?”

“Harder!”

“Number Nine.”

Whhhh-craaaaaack! She could not draw breath to scream for a second, whimpering instead. “Yes…”

“But you keep taking and taking, more and more, my beautiful girlfriend. You won’t be able to sit tomorrow, but you don’t care at all. You just want the darkness, don’t you? She whimpered and nodded. “You just want whatever will give you my cock, don’t you? You just want whatever will get you my cock buried inside you, Hermione. So I can fuck you until you lose all sense of yourself… Number Ten.”

Whuhhh-craaaaaack! She felt the breath leave her lungs and gasped for breath as her mind reeled. Yes to all of it. Yes to every bit of his words and their promises.

One hand massaged her bum as he muttered the contraceptive and spread her open. Then, she was filled as he plunged in to the hilt, pulling her back onto his cock in one movement.

She gasped again. It was that feeling of everything being right suddenly. “Draco… Oh, Draco!”

This was no languid love-making like their first time had been, though. He fucked her, really fucked her, setting a pace that left her unable to breathe easily, but she found she did not care. “I know you can feel that, Hermione. You can feel how hard I am, because you let me hurt you. And, you can feel this is where I belong, buried in you, fucking you. My cock ruining you, this thing between us just burning. And it doesn’t matter what I give you, pleasure or pain, you’ll still want to be back here with my cock inside you, just where it belongs.”

Hermione could feel herself very close to her peak and crying. “Yes… Draco… You belong...there…”

She felt that something simply shattered inside her. It was not a peak as she had known them before. It was more like she had simply ceased to exist, and where she had been was a being made of pure moonlight. She had the vague sensation of Draco climaxing with a deep moan, then pulling her down onto the tarp.

When she came back to herself, she was covered with a blanket, just being held by him. He murmured into her hair. “You were perfect, so perfect. I love you, Hermione. I love you so much… You gave me more than I could have asked for… Thank you, I love you. You were just what I wanted. It was perfect, love.”

She blinked up at the glass dome of the greenhouse. “That was incredible, Draco.” She snuggled into him, enjoying the sensation of just being sweaty and tired and sore and touching him. “I liked that so much… Not every time, but god, how did you know how to do that?”

He held her close and kissed her hair. “There is no such thing as a restricted section in home libraries… If you can open the book, you can learn from it.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide. “That is definitely the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me. It might be the hottest thing I’ve ever heard…” She kissed him again, deeply. What the fuck was happening? How had she fallen so fast and so deep?”

Draco broke away first. “Hermione, do you know that you slapping me was the first time we ever touched?”

“What, back in Third Year?”

“Yes. And, do you know that after that, I could see my string the next time I tried _Ostende Filum_?”

Hermione thought back to that day. “That was the day I quit Divination and the first time I saw my string, too…”

“Mine wouldn’t come untangled from my wand until after that night on the Astronomy Tower. And, the next time I checked, it went to the Room of Requirement and through one of the walls.”

Hermione nodded. “Mine went into the same wall from the hall side…”

When he spoke again, it was practically a wail, and she could hear the tears. “It went through a solid wall and that wall is no longer standing, Hermione! Why do you want to sever this? Why? This is everything! You’re everything! Why do you still want to make this go away?!”

She sat up and pulled him into a hug, putting her face right next to his. “I don’t want to make this go away, Draco. I never want to stop choosing you. I want to wake up every day and think, ‘Today is for me and for Draco, and we chose each other’. I want this to be forever, I just can’t do forever if it’s not the forever I made, the one I chose to make. Doing the right thing because it was the only option isn’t really right. Doing the right thing because I want to do the right thing is the only way to be the Hermione I need to be.”

Draco choked back a sob and held her tightly. “It won’t feel right to you if you didn’t get to choose me?”

“Exactly. I’ll always wonder if I would have really chosen you if it wasn’t for the string. And, the only way to know for sure is to sever the original string and stay together anyway. I’m sorry this is how I am. I wish I could just be happy, but I don’t see how I can trust fate after everything that’s happened in my life.”

Draco nodded. “I guess I technically understand. I’ll do whatever you want, but I’ll be sad to lose that feeling when we’re connected.”

“Rodolph says that’ll probably come back once we twine back together. I’m sure if we keep fucking like that, we’ll be twined back up in no time…” She loosened her grip to look down at him and waggle her eyebrows.

He blinked several times. “Oh, _Nocte Visibilis_ just cut out.” He kissed her neck.

“What’s that one?” She threw a leg over his torso to give him better access.

“Mmm, it’s the one to see in the dark. Extremely useful when you don’t want to light up a room at night and give away your position or disturb others. I needed to be able to see where I was spanking.”

“God, I wish we’d known that one the last seven years… Although, I guess Slytherins are notorious skulkers, so of course they have the night vision spell. Teach me?”

He rolled his eyes in the moonlight. “Okay, swotty girlfriend…”

“Is there wandwork? Should I conjure a light?”

“What? ‘Is there wandwork?’ Of course there’s wandwork. Do you know any spells without any wandwork? Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger? When will the polyjuice wear off? But, yes, definitely conjure a light to see what I’m doing. Just be sure to banish it again before you start trying it yourself or you’ll blind yourself on the light.”

She _lumos_ -ed to see his wandwork. It was a bit of a figure eight over the eyes. She tried it a few times with no success. He checked her after his own _Nocte Visibilis_ and helped her adjust the sweeping motion on the outer edges. That did it! She felt an almost physical difference to her eyes that was letting her see everything as if it was just after sunset. She looked at Draco’s eyes. They looked more like a cat’s eyes than human eyes, and as he focused on her, the pupils dilated further.

“That is so cool…”

Draco chuckled. “Last about an hour. Should we go back to the tower to go to bed? I assume you’re not going to apparate back to the Burrow this late, or wake McGonagall to use her floo?”

“I guess I’ll go back to the girls’ dorm. I didn’t get very much sleep last night with staying up writing to you…”

He accioed their clothes and they dressed again.

“Where did this blanket come from?”

“Oh, I just transfigured one of the tarps. It’s nice to be less exposed after all that.” He turned it back to a tarp and did something to make the tarps fold up again and go back to their place.

“That’s so sweet… Where on earth did you come from, Draco?”

Draco shrugged and unlocked the door. “Wiltshire?”


	21. Stern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco correspond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you all. Take care of yourselves.

July 13-16, 1998

The next morning, Hermione woke in her bed in Hogwarts and felt a dramatic sense of disorientation. How was she back here? Where was Harry? Where was the tent?!

As she came back to the current day and place, she realised it was not six months ago anymore, and found herself needing to run over the events of the past five months in her head to remind herself of who she really was now. They had destroyed the horcruxes. Voldemort was dead. The castle was being rebuilt. Draco had changed and they were together. There was not the danger her dreams were trying to convince her of. There had not even been anything specific she could remember from last night’s dreams, just that feeling of the horcrux near and the terrible aloneness of camping for too long.

At breakfast, she was glad to see no sign of her handprint on Draco’s face. Hermione found as many excuses as she could to pat his face where she had hit him last night. He did not even remotely flinch, leaning into her touch instead, and smiling with a glint in his eye. Ginny sat across from them making gagging noises.

Draco finally fixed his gaze on her over his coffee cup. “Tiny Weasley, you’re not going to have a repeat of your antics on the way back from the pub, are you? I’d like to know if I need to do some weatherproofing on my shoes…”

Ginny brandished her butter knife at him. “Listen, git, I’ll vomit on you without warning whenever I like.”

He sipped his coffee. “Weatherproofing for all my clothes, then.” I guess your new nickname will be Impervius, then?”

She retaliated by scraping the butter off her knife into his coffee cup. He seemed unbothered by it and continued to drink the coffee, to Ginny’s delight and Hermione’s disgust.

Ginny finished buttering her toast and turned to Hermione. “So, when are you going to come back for good?”

Hermione frowned. “Well, as fun as yesterday was, I really don’t feel like I’m ready to be here full time yet. I think I might try coming back for a few days at the end of the week, just to see how it goes. There is still a lot I want to do before I come back. I really need to know what’s possible with the Room, and there are obviously still quite a lot of questions to answer about that. And, although McGonagall said I could come back to keep working on myself, I don’t know that I want to do that. I want to feel like I’m prepared, and I just don’t feel that at all yet.”

Draco pulled her close and kissed her hair. “Do whatever you need, love.”

Ginny tore a piece of toast off. “How do you know how you feel all the time, ‘Mione?”

Ron crawled over the bench next to his sister, huge dark circles under his eyes. “Well, I think it’s because when you have a gallon of emotional range like her, it’s easier to see the individual bits, not like us with our teaspoons.”

Hermione was embarrassed at her past self for saying that since Ron had clearly taken it to heart. “Ron, I don’t think that anymore, you know.”

He smiled sadly. “I know, but it did make me think.”

Draco loosened his hold on her waist. “I’m going to go find the headmistress about assignments today.” He whispered to Hermione. “Say goodbye before you go?”

She smiled and nodded.

Ron watched him go with his mouth in a hard line. “So, that’s really happening?”

Hermione could not fathom why, but she felt incredibly guilty now with Ron seeing them together. She nodded without making eye contact.

“What is it about him, Hermione? I just don’t get it. I barely got it when you would disappear with Neville, but with him, he bloody hated us all for years.” His voice was frustrated and hurt, whining at the edges, but not as angry as she expected.

Ginny sat across from Hermione with wide eyes, emphatically chewing her toast in anticipation of this showdown.

Hermione cleared her throat and licked her lips. “Well, uh, he’s different than we thought?”

Ron’s voice was incredulous but did not raise above a normal conversational level. “He wanted to kill you for years, Hermione.”

She swallowed. “Uh, yes. But, he never did. He could have done it, but he didn’t do it.” Her hand went to her neck protectively. “He wanted to be different, and he hasn’t killed anyone. Ron, the war was not kind to anyone on either side.”

“He hated us, Hermione. He called you the worst thing purebloods could call someone. And, you’re sleeping with him now?!”

She squirmed on the bench, feeling the effects of sleeping with him the night before. Her voice was very quiet when she finally spoke. “Ron, I had to do things during the war that I hated but that needed to be done. I know you don’t understand that. And, basically no one understands that. But, Draco understands. He had to do things he hated, and he had to do things he should have hated but didn’t as much as he wanted to. And, that is exactly how I feel, too. I don’t know why, but so far it works between us. I don’t need you to understand any of this, but I need you to support my choice to be with him.”

Ginny started coughing loudly then. Ron whacked her on the back roughly.

“Sorry, just went down the wrong way…” Ginny looked sheepish.

Ron stared at Hermione. He looked deflated somehow. “You’re right. I don’t understand and I won’t understand. Can you just give me a while to get used to it before you bring him round for parties? I’ll try to behave myself as much as possible.”

He got up and left with a handful of bacon and a muffin.

Ginny stared at Hermione with the same wide eyes. “How are things so bloody interesting when you’re around?”

Hermione shrugged and finished her baguette.

She spied Neville and Luna talking with their heads close together at the end of another table. What was going to happen between _them_?

She had never heard back from Luna when she wrote to her. Should she try again? She would probably need Luna’s participation to make the Room work.

“Have a good week, Ginny. I’m going to talk to Luna for a minute and then get out of here.”

Ginny waved with her mouth full.

Luna and Neville stopped their conversation as soon as they saw Hermione coming.

“Hi you two…” Hermione sat down.

Luna smiled. “Good morning, Hermione. I think your nargles are going away. Hopefully the Burrow doesn’t get infested now.”

Hermione shook her head. “I’d be more worried about the Ministry than the Burrow, honestly.”

“That makes sense. There were quite a lot of them in the Wizengamot room. I heard you were at Mr Malfoy’s trial. I’m sorry I missed you there, but you were gone when I testified on Thursday. It seems it was quite stressful.”

“Yes, I couldn’t stay. It WAS very stressful.” She took a breath. “Luna, did anyone tell you about my idea for restoring the Room of Requirement?”

Luna shrugged. “Not yet, but you want to do something with the soul strings leading us up there.”

Hermione and Neville shared a glance and Neville cleared his throat. “Yeah, Hermione thinks the six of us could use the strings to restore the Room.”

She smiled. “Yes.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, yes?”

“Yes, we could use the strings to restore the Room.” She sipped from her teacup. “I had some dreams about it. We could do it.”

“Is this like how you know you won’t be a teacher here?”

Luna nodded serenely.

Neville’s voice was a little bit cracked as he spoke. “You said we COULD do it… So, what else could we do?”

Luna cocked her head to the side. “Not restore the room. I’d have to think more about what else we could do with the bonds if we don’t restore her room, though.” She smiled at Neville. “It’s okay, Neville. Whatever we do will be the right thing to do. The fact that we’ll only choose one thing doesn’t mean we didn’t have other choices.”

Hermione had the sensation that she was watching something private between them.

The color of Neville’s face had reddened several shades. His voice was a whisper. “I just need to know which part of it is fate, Lu…”

Luna put her hand on his cheek. “None of it is fate. It’s all choices that make other choices. All of it.”

Hermione slipped away from their table. Whatever was happening between them had nothing to do with her, nothing at all… She walked away in a daze and found Draco holding a board with a pile of parchment stuck to it, flipping through the pages and discussing the assignments with Professor McGonagall.

His eyes flashed concern at the look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “Weird conversation… I think I’ll head home now. Walk me to the gate?”

Professor McGonagall made a sweeping motion of dismissal with her hand and took the board from Draco. “Please let me know if you require anything, Miss Granger. I hope to see you again soon.”

“End of the week, I think, Professor.” She waved and left the Hall with Draco.

They held hands and swung their arms as they walked.

“So, you’ll definitely be back at the end of the week, then?” Draco’s voice had a falsely-calm quality.

She smiled. “Yes, I will. For a test run until I know for sure I’m ready. Will you keep writing to me in the book?”

He nodded. “Of course. I still haven’t answered all your questions.”

She huffed. “I’m not sure I like that game anymore. It feels really hard for me to not twist it.”

Draco looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you could practice some self control, Gryffindor?”

She rolled her eyes. “Fuck you very much, Slytherin?”

They reached the gate and Draco took the opportunity to push her gently up against the bars, kissing the breath from her. By the time they parted again, they were both panting slightly.

“I mean, I didn’t mean here and now…”

Draco waggled his eyebrows. “I know some invisibility spells that we could absolutely take advantage of some day…”

She bit her lip and looked away. “Draco, was it okay for us to do that? Last night? I liked it so much, but I’m just afraid that liking it that much means I’m broken. It feels really messed up to like that you hurt me.”

Draco withdrew his arms and took a step back. “What does it mean that I liked hurting you, then? Or that I liked you hurting me, too? Both of those are pretty messed up, too.”

She frowned. “Should we not do stuff like that again, then? I don’t want to feel weird about sex with you.”

He shrugged, an odd sort of mask across his features. “I guess we shouldn’t then, until we both feel okay about it. Yeah, we shouldn’t. This was only our second time having sex at all. It makes sense to keep the dark stuff out of it.”

She nodded, not very happy with how quickly he agreed. “But, I still want your words about it all? It really does make me feel very hot. I just don’t know what I feel about us actually hurting each other.”

His voice dropped. “I know exactly how I feel about you hurting me, Hermione. Pro. Extremely Pro.”

He waved his wand and a glamour dropped from his face to reveal the very light bruise on his cheek. “It’s my favorite thing about my face this morning, love.”

Her face crumpled in a conflicted smile. “God, I’m so fucked. This is so complicated, Draco. How do we make this work?” She closed the distance between them again, holding him around the waist.

He pressed his face into her hair. “I know. Let’s just keep talking and writing to each other for now. It’s the best we can do.”

She nodded and kissed him again, a shiver of relish running through her at the sight of his bruise under her hand.

McGonagall’s voice announced that it was time to gather for the day’s assignments. Draco threw up his glamour again and watched as Hermione went past the anti-apparition wards.

Hermione waved and blew him a kiss before disappearing with a crack.

Hermione spent the remainder of the day finishing the books she had borrowed from Narcissa. She took detailed notes on what needed to be researched next.

Late that night, she read what Draco had finally written back to her.

> _Where were we before we were so rudely interrupted to make such rude noises? Ah yes, you’ve been worried about me as much as you’ve been worried about yourself and you’re not sure if that’s warranted, although you think you had a panic attack in the middle of the day on Tuesday and you think this sentence has gone on long enough, don’t I? Certainly not. You could definitely have run farther with that sentence, couldn’t you? I appreciate that you were worried about me, love, but I do rather wish you’d taken care of yourself on Tuesday more than you’d taken care of me. Yes, that was a panic attack, it’s how they usually go for me. Is there a reason you didn’t ask me about the trial while you were here? We don’t need to talk about it, but I just wonder why you didn’t ask about it after I talked you into being in the room for those two days ostensibly to talk about it afterward.   
>  Actually, though, am I alright? No, I don’t think so. It turns out I don’t like this game anymore. I think I’m a bit angry at you, but I don’t know quite why. I don’t understand why you won’t just tell me what you want from me. I keep doing these things hoping you’ll be happy and want me, just want me, and everything will fall into place. And, then, you seem happy for a time, but it’s all gone again the next day. I feel like you’re not just running from your problems, Hermione. I feel like you’re running from me. I don’t think you want the soulmate bond, and I just can’t understand why. You can feel we belong together when I’m inside you. I know you can feel that, too. So, why won’t you just let us belong together? The way you talked about severing our bond, it’s like it’s just a potion ingredient to you. The fact that you know it’s me, and that you know I’ll do anything to make you happy is this rare spell component that you want to use up. But, you literally only get one of those, Hermione. You only get to sever your bond once and then it’s over.   
>  I don’t want to sever the bond with you. You say you’ll choose me afterward, but I know I’ll have to fight to get you back, and I don’t think you’ll really let me fight for you that way. I just want you, Hermione. I’m not sure I can trust you to want me back after severing.   
> I’m in an exceedingly bad mood today. I dropped a stone in the balustrade on my foot and broke a toe. Skele-gro tastes as bad as I remember.   
>  If you see my mother, please do not tell her about your soulmate severing ideas. She will try to talk to me about it, and I cannot have a conversation with her about this. She has been poked rather hard in some sensitive places about this already, and she deserves to heal about this at least. Her bond with Father meant everything to her, and it was devastating to her to have it break. I’m sure you’ve spoken to her about this somewhat, as you don’t know not to just talk about this all over the place, but please don’t continue. If any of us do end up going through with it for the Room, it must remain as private as possible.   
>  I love you. I’m sorry I sound so patrician tonight. I’m not sure if there’s a way to remove something from both books, but I’ve just re-read that last paragraph and I especially sound like an arsehole.   
> _
> 
> _Was your day alright? Did you have a nice apparation back? Where do you usually stop on your way south from Hogwarts? I like to stop in the national parks, Galloway & The Peaks & The Cotswolds, although the Cotswolds aren’t really on the way home anymore.   
> _
> 
> _Fuck, Hermione, don’t hate me again, please? I just don’t want you to go away again this week. It was terrible. I know we had the judicial spell to deal with, but I didn’t know if you were even alright with hearing from me after Tuesday. And, when I saw you yesterday, all I could think was, why is she here now? Why is she with me? And, you came into the Great Hall with your arm linked with Neville, and I thought, yeah, that looks right to me. And I couldn’t figure out how to talk about anything that mattered. Why me, Hermione? I don't know how to make that sound like anything other than a whiny prat is asking. Why not Neville? I don’t deserve you after what I did to you and what I tried to do to you. And, you’re right, we shouldn’t do that scary stuff anymore. Why do you want this darkness, Hermione? What can you possibly get out of me being honest about the horrors in my head?  
>  You should be with Neville instead. He’s got his head on straight, and he’s a good bloke, good looking, war hero. You should choose him._

Hermione was furious and spent half the night writing back to him.

> _Okay, Arsehole. That was a whole load of real shite. Like, it was all over the place, and it was all real shite. No more of the question game._
> 
> _  
> Here is what I want from you:  
>  Be Draco, as messy and needy and dark as Draco is, be that. Be whoever you actually fucking are. If you’re the funny, cool, suave guy, be him. If you’re the chaotic, apparently bisexual, dirty-mouthed Slytherin Sex God, be him. If you’re the sensitive, caring, listens to whatever crap I’m spewing with understanding guy, be him. If you’re the guy who cares about his mum and wants to murder his father, be him. If you’re the guy who cries at the thought of severing and desperately wants me to just be in his life, be him. I like every single one of those guys, and they’re fucking well all you, so far as I can tell. If you’re not one or more of those guys, then who the fuck are you? If there’s another part of you you’ve been hiding, who is that secret Draco? Does he know who the fuck he is? I’m not playing some game with you where I’m hiding what I want. You actually are what I want. I don’t want anything from you. I just want you. I’ve been as clear as I can be on that point. I just want you and me, whatever that looks like and however much we can have of each other without murdering each other. Can you be clear on what you want from me? I feel like it keeps changing.   
>  Stop telling me not to hate you. I won’t. I fucking promise. I swear on my pussy, the most serious of swearing organs.   
> Is your foot alright? I read that toes can regrow their bones upside down sometimes. It didn’t make any sense at the time.   
> I won’t talk to your mother about any more soulmate stuff. Is there something specific I should say I’m researching that will make her not ask any more questions? I did talk to her about soulmate stuff a bit at tea, and I think I did notice that she didn’t really want to talk about it. I do need to learn how to not ask every single fucking question in my head. She has been extremely open with me on a wide variety of subjects, and I’m not good at reading social signals. Not like Slytherins are, probably. Are Gryffindors just open books to your house? We do have a tendency to rather fling our emotions about, just knocking things over willy-nilly. I’m sorry. Can you teach me how to see people more subtly? I don’t want to upset people, and I’m not sure I can see people how you see people.   
>  If I’m with people going to the Burrow, I stop in those parks, but if I’m alone, I go Galloway to Snowdonia to Exmoor. I like going across the water, but most of the Weasleys don’t, plus they’re quite far jumps, especially between Galloway & Snowdonia. Also, not everyone likes to go through Wales.   
>  As we just had a conversation about darkness this morning, it has been fresh in my mind. I don’t think anyone else would necessarily understand this, but I don’t necessarily distrust the darkness. I don’t think it lies the same way I’ve seen ‘the light’ lie. So far, all I can see is that there are ways to misuse trust no matter if you see in the light of the sun at noon or in the darkness at midnight on a moonless night. I like seeing the darkness in you specifically because you don’t flinch from it. You face it head-on, and you say what the darkness actually is. You tell me you are going to hurt me, and you make it clear it will affect me. You want to control what happens, and you want to test how far you can cross the line of propriety. You want to use all the filthy words you know for our bodies to make me know what we’re doing. You want me to know exactly what you could do, and you want to make me feel the line of fear we both know is there. You tell me the truth in those moments, not just when we were in the greenhouse, but in the pub when you described why you’d done the dark things you’d done. I don’t want you to do those things again, and I certainly don’t want you to do them to me, but I can understand why you did them, and the fact that you tell me the truth about those things in the way you do makes me know who you are, Draco.   
>  I know people don’t see it in me, but I have darkness inside me, too. I kept an animagus in a jar for several weeks. I have threatened more people than I can remember. I know I could kill someone if I needed to. I basically did kill my parents. I know you can see the darkness in me, too, Draco, and I need you because you do see it. I would burn the world if it meant my friends were saved. I would burn the world to burn up with you, if that’s how you wanted to go. I hate that no one wants me to feel pain or be uncomfortable or have a feeling that isn’t pure. I had to be ruthless to beat Voldemort, and no one wants to see it. I had to be Bellatrix and I still have her wand and it fucking obeys me now. I cannot be with someone who doesn’t see who I’ve had to become. But you see me, darkness and light and all of the confusing nonsense in between.   
>  I don’t know what to say to make you trust me. I just know I’ll choose you. I’ll keep choosing you until I am literally incapable of choosing you anymore. I know this about myself better than I know a lot of things right now. I can point directly to the piece of myself that is us. It’s an important piece, Draco. I’ve had to replace and repair a whole lot of pieces of myself already this summer, and this piece I have that is how I feel about you is crucial. It’ll be there no matter what happens to our string. I just know I need you in a way that even that feeling we get when we’re physically connected does not come close to. This is a feeling that even if the sun destroyed us in that burning you want, this piece of you inside of me will still exist. It’s not that forever feeling of soulmates, it’s just Hermione and Draco. Just me and just you.   
>   
> Please, just me and just you._

Hermione waited three days for a reply. She visited the library at Black House and lost an entire day reading about magical architecture and rooms. She studied at-will transfigurable items and spaces.

She left the book open each night waiting for a reply.

Finally, just before Thursday night turned into Friday, she saw the words slowly appear on the page.

> _I’m so sorry I haven’t responded. Too much has happened. I know everything less than I did before, somehow, but some things are even more true than I knew before, too.  
>  Are you coming back soon? I need you. To tell you things and feel you near. Let me give you some of those words you like so much…   
>  Love, Draco_

Hermione smiled to herself and touched her lips, feeling the kiss of his words. She picked up her quill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Le sigh. I hope you enjoyed Hermione's perspective. 
> 
> Epilogue Saturday along with the prologue of Draco's perspective. 
> 
> I'm thinking of you all in this trying time.


	22. Epilogue - Crow's Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione, Draco, and Neville have a quiet moment before school starts.

September 1, 1998

Hermione did not take the Hogwarts Express to her “Eighth” Year. She was already at the castle doing some final cleanup before the remaining students arrived. Draco was taking a final opportunity to mildly harass her before it stopped being fun for them both and started being an offense that would cost house points. It would not do to be caught reenacting Draco’s fifteen-year-old fantasies, or having him flip up her uniform skirt with a flick of his wand, or getting into a ‘vanishing clothes’ fight.

In the early afternoon, as they were charming the windows of one of the totally new classrooms to remain clean, Neville poked his head into the room with his hand over his eyes. “Are you decent in here?”

Hermione flicked an eraser across the room that connected with his head. “Yes, Dad…”

Draco whispered, “Unfortunately for us all…”

Hermione smacked him in the chest and smiled at Neville. “Everything set with Professor Sprout?”

Neville slipped into the room and closed the door. “Yeah, all good. I just wanted to spend some time with you before everyone else gets here… it’s going to be so weird having the castle packed with people again.”

Draco nodded and relaxed against a desk. “It’s been years since the castle felt like people lived here, though. I’m excited for the first years to see the place like it should be. They’re lucky they don’t have any memories from before.”

“Last year was really awful.” Neville leaned on the desk with Draco and bumped their shoulders together. “Are you ready for the real backlash, Draco?”

Hermione turned back to the window to hit it with the stay-clean charm. In the reflection off the glass, she could just barely see Draco put his head on Neville’s shoulder. She smiled to herself.

“It can’t be worse than when everyone outside Slytherin whispered murderer at me last year. And, shopping for school at Diagon Alley last week, it seemed like half the people were smiling at us, after the pictures from Potter’s birthday party.” Draco sighed. “I’m ready. I know I’m ready. I’m going to miss being able to see the two of you whenever I want, though. It’s been so nice to just be with you with nothing to do, you know?”

Hermione turned back to them again and went to wrap her arms around them.”I’ll remind you of missing us when you get cranky because I won’t let you mope in a corner by yourself, love.” 

Neville reached up and ruffled Draco’s hair. “And I’ll remind you when you’re sick of sitting in the library watching Hermione suck on a sugar quill for the sixth straight hour.”

Draco’s eyebrow raised and he smoothed his hair again. “That’s awfully specific, Neville darling…”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never just watched Hermione study?” Neville’s eyebrow quirked. “She just gets into this zone of concentration and then YOU can’t look away. Mesmerising…”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “This explains why you always want to study together but always have to finish your work at the last moment. Does everyone just stare at me instead of studying?”

Neville shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Just the ones who want to watch the swot suck her quill forever,” his voice pitched down and took on an American accent, “and dream of eating her peach for hours…”

Draco laughed and Hermione gasped, hitting Neville in the chest over and over. “I said NO MORE Face/Off references. It’s been more than a month! It was so weird! Ugh!”

Neville laughed and took the hits until they stopped, then turned to Draco, eyes wide. Draco did the same, staring weirdly into Neville’s eyes. They each made a grasping motion over their faces and said in unison, “I’m going to take his face… off…”

Hermione screeched and flailed, hitting them wherever their protection lacked. “No!”

They restrained her easily. Draco whispered in her ear as he held her arms from hitting him. “You love it. You love your stupid boys…”

Hermione softened against them and Neville wrapped his arms around her. “I’m going to miss how easy this has been. I’m already looking forward to Christmas.”

Draco smiled and kissed her cheek. “Three and a half months will go by in a flash, if this summer is any indication.”

She found herself excited for the next chapter, whatever it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you continue with the story from Draco's perspective in part 2!
> 
> Love you all, and I hope you're surviving cromulently.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought! I enjoy a good key-smash if "You have already left kudos here. :)"


End file.
